


rising from the ashes

by khrysallis



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3898798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khrysallis/pseuds/khrysallis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A clash of destinies has Kris and Chanyeol fighting against everything they have ever come to know - even themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> this is something which i've been working on for the longest time ever, and i'm still trying to figure out how i want it to work out, but hopefully i'll set them straight soon :) enjoy!

Legend has it that powerful demigods in the form of a dragon and a phoenix roamed the lands of EXO. One was a symbol for dread, destruction, and despair, while the other’s existence symbolised hope, rebirth, and a brighter future for their lands. One exists after the other, and one disappears after another; such was the cycle, and no one was able to predict when these mystical creatures would appear.  
  
Every two hundred years, however, the Dragon’s descendant and the Phoenix’s descendant would be born within two ends of the same month, setting up a scenario for an inevitable massive bloodshed to occur years down the road. It was a matter of the Phoenix’s appearance that would save them all, as the Phoenix is the only entity which could stop the Dragon and his path of destruction.  
  
But at the end of the day, one conclusion was clear: Only one of them could survive.  
  
  


-  
-  
-

  
  
  
Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he glanced up at the scarlet skies above him; he didn’t know whether it was due to the sweltering heat that was swallowing him whole, or whether it was because of the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Smoke was slowly rising into the sky, blending in with the dark, ominous clouds above – it held the evidence of the aftermath from an earlier incident.  
  
He immediately dodged to his right when a fireball came crashing dangerously close to his feet, hissing when the stray sparks of fire came into contact with his exposed arms. The pain was quickly forgotten, however; the multiple burn marks on his skin was more than enough to explain the reason behind it.  
  
Chanyeol narrowed his eyes when a malicious chuckle approached him from behind, accompanied by the sound of wings slicing through the air. “Are you out of your mind?” He reeled around and growled at the person, whom merely smiled in response.  
  
“No, not quite,” the man mused, drumming his fingers against his cheek as he supported his elbow with his free hand. “I just needed something to humour myself. Why so serious?”  
  
That reply made Chanyeol’s blood boil, his entire being trembling in fury. He made a quick sweep of their surroundings, which was practically burnt to the ground. There was absolutely no mercy shown even towards the children and the helpless, evidenced by the ember rising from what used to be huts dwelled by people Chanyeol knew. People that the other man  _knew_ and  _befriended_.  
  
“This is your idea of fun? You make me  _sick_.” Chanyeol spat at the other man’s face. The latter flinched slightly at the light impact; his eyes were squeezed shut as he languidly wiped off the spit with the sleeves of his robe. The moment the man reopened his eyes, however, Chanyeol recognised only one emotion in them: fury. The last hint of humanity in who used to be his friend was gone without a trace.  
  
“I’m going to make you regret for pulling that move, Chanyeol.” The man’s lips pressed into a thin, sinister line, as a pair of dark, scaly wings tore through the fabric of his robes and spread open on either side of him.  
  
Chanyeol retaliated with flaming wings of his own, his eyes narrowed at the person he no longer knew.  
  
“Game on, Kris.” 


	2. act 01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: mentions of violence

Howls of agony filled the small but cosy house, intermixed with calls for the woman to push harder and harder that drowned out even the loudest and most painful of screams. The woman on the bed gasped and wheezed with each effort she made to push the baby out of her womb, as the midwife monitored the birth progress.

After what seemed like forever for the woman, the calming sound of a baby’s cries took the place of her pained screams. She heaved a sigh of relief, still gasping for breath to numb most of the pain, but her exhaustion was promptly forgotten when the bundled form of her baby came into plain sight. Ten months of pregnancy boiled down to this very moment of joy.

“My baby...” she cooed lovingly as the midwife placed the newborn in her arms. She smiled at her baby who was making incoherent noises, pressing her nose against her child’s forehead and inhaled his scent. She then held him up in front of her, so that she could admire his soft features at a distance, but when she did, collective gasps erupted from her husband and everyone else who were inside the room with her.

“What is the matter?” The woman asked, eyes wide in question. The way her husband had paled the moment the piece of cloth wrapped around their son fell off worried her.

“That mark…” He started quietly, uncertainly, taking a few cautious steps forward, and then he suddenly roared in extreme fury. “That accursed mark!”

Sensing that something was amiss, the woman held her baby close to her bosom, away from her husband’s angry claws. “What is this accursed mark that you speak of?”

Without warning, her husband snatched their baby out of her hands with a force so strong, she could not even resist. “This child is a demon! He bears the cursed mark that promises destruction! We must not let him live!” He continued frantically, showing her the tiny mark over the child’s shoulder blade. He then whipped towards the midwife, glaring her down. “ _You_! You shall not breathe a word to the world about this child! Out!” And the midwife scampered away, shaking.

“Qingyong! You can’t possibly do this! This is _our_ child, the product of _our_ love!” The woman argued despite her exhaustion, this time tugging desperately at the sleeve of her husband’s robes, wailing and sobbing away. She recognised the mark, and knew what it meant. She knew _it_ ran in her blood, but had never expected that it would manifest in her firstborn.

It must be a cruel twist of fate, she thought, especially when none of her family bore the mark over the years.

“Regardless, this child must not be allowed to survive. You heard the legends. You know what would happen if we do not eliminate him. _Now give me the child_.” Her husband pressed on steadfastly, ignoring her words completely. She suddenly felt as though he had turned into a completely different person, and for once, she was afraid of him.

“No.” The woman spoke up in a quiet voice moments later, composing herself in a timely manner.

Her husband narrowed his eyes at her. “ _What_ did you say?”

“I said no. I will not give the child to you. If anyone has to get rid of him, it would be me. I’m the one who gave birth to him. _Please_ , let me do this.” She replied, holding his gaze down in a silent challenge. Her husband searched her eyes for any signs of wavering, but found none. In the end, he heaved a resigned sigh.

“Fine, I will hold you onto this. Make sure that he is out of my sight by nightfall.”

The woman nodded once in acknowledgement.

That very night, instead of being thrown into the river that was not far off from the house he was born in, the child was given away to another woman who had just lost her own child and knew absolutely nothing about the cursed mark. His mother looked on forlornly as the other woman made her way out of the village with her son in her arms, hoping that he would, one day, be nurtured into a person she would be proud of.

‡‡

The clean-shaven man with snow white hair had his eyes squeezed shut as he took in slow, rhythmic breaths, inhaling in the fresh morning air around him. It was yet another calming start to the day for him, and he spends it by meditating just as he had for the past 50 years in this shrine he called his home.

He allowed a small smile to find its way to his lips when a shrill shriek of joy came from within the living quarters, imagining his two-year-old grandson playing happily in the house with his mother. This was the life he truly enjoyed – silent, tranquil, and surrounded by his family members. It was a shame that his son had passed on early because of a mishap at the hillside a little more than a year ago, otherwise it would have painted a more beautiful picture.

That short moment of inner peace was shattered barely minutes later when he remembers the date. The twenty-seventh day of the eleventh month; the day when the new Phoenix was supposed to be born, just like their predecessors several millennia ago. However, that has not happened since the day he had taken over the position as the Protector of the Shrine of the Phoenix, not even when his father was in his current position. He was beginning to think that the bloodline of the Phoenix has since perished after the death of the previous Phoenix, who had remained unmarried and childless until the time of her death.

Regardless, the people of EXO have continued worshipping the Phoenix as a godly entity in itself, despite the absence of the true embodiment of the Phoenix. People who wanted and needed blessings from the Phoenix thronged the shrine to make their wishes and hopes known. Those who had their prayers fulfilled returned with offers of their gratitude, and those whose wishes remained not granted simply returned with more offerings. He did not approve of nor encourage the people to donate to the shrine, however, since the shrine was doing well on its own and did not require much monetary aid. Also, considering the fact that the Phoenix was nowhere in sight and that the Phoenix, in its essence, cannot grant wishes, he did not want the people to be misled. The Phoenix was merely intended as a symbol of hope, nothing more.

In spite of his and his predecessors’ continuous advice and explanation, the people still flooded the shrine with worldly goods and donations. He could merely sigh and let them be, then donate the items they received to the less fortunate. It was the least he could do.

Heaving a quiet sigh, he sucked in a deep breath and returned to his meditation routine. But before he could truly enter his meditational state, he was momentarily paralysed by a slew of images that he had never seen before. Brilliant wings and tail of amber and yellow and white swept before his sight, accompanied by the serenade of a sweet melody caressing his sense of hearing. Even though he has never experienced this before, he knew for sure what exactly it signified.

The next descendant of the Phoenix would be born on this day – at long last.

※

The Park household was submerged in a flurry of activity when Lu Ming had arrived. No one seemed to have noticed his presence, of which he greatly appreciated; there was a reason why he hadn’t walked out of the shrine in his usual garb, which attracted much more attention than he really needed. Protectors of the Shrine seemed to be revered figures as well, though not as much as the Phoenix’s descendants themselves. Lu Ming, like his father, preferred to keep a low profile when it wasn't necessary to stand out from the rest.

He blended into the corner with his helper as they watched the servants go about; the head of the servants was bellowing order after order at the rest, asking them to _hurry up already_. It wasn't until much later that Lu Ming decided that nothing will come to fruition out of his visit if the situation continued, and so he caught the next servant who scurried past him with a tight grip on the young boy's upper arm.

As expected, the young boy's eyes widened in recognition when his gaze fell upon Lu Ming's face. He immediately bowed in greeting. "Master Lu! I'm terribly sorry for not receiving you earlier!"

Lu Ming smiled at him, which catches the young servant off guard. "It's alright, child. Pray tell, what is going on at the moment?"

"The mistress of the manor is in labour. She will be giving birth anytime soon, I think. Shall I bring you to her?" The boy informed good-naturedly, and when Lu Ming nodded in affirmation, they were on their way at once.

The moment they had arrived at the room, the sound of a baby's cries was already coming from within, and the housemaids ushered Lu Ming in. The pair of proud parents who were whispering at each other while gazing lovingly at their newborn looked up when his arrival was announced, the father immediately getting up from his seat next to his wife to greet him. “Why, Master Lu, what great honour for us to have you here in our humble abode! What brings you here?”

“Your child; I need to take a look at him and ascertain something.” Lu Ming replied evenly, exuding the silent authority that came with his role. Park Kyungjoon wordlessly complied with that request, watching on as Lu Ming examined the newborn just as wordlessly.

“Is something the matter?” Kyungjoon found his voice moments later, unable to bear the unsettling silence any longer. The expressions worn by the Protector of the Phoenix Shrine worried him tremendously; in fact, his mere presence in the manor was more than potent to trigger a panic alarm in anyone’s minds. The Protector never usually left the shrine unless for important matters, and he certainly didn't make trips to random households just to take a look at a family’s newborn child.

It took one stern look from Lu Ming for Kyungjoon to realise that whatever that needs to be said wasn’t suitable for a public audience, and he waved his servants off. Lu Ming’s lips were pressed into a thin line when the servants have all left, which prompted the same question from Kyungjoon. “Master Lu, may I know what is going on?”

“Your son… he bears the mark of the Phoenix.” Lu Ming said quietly, lest someone eavesdropped on them.

As expected, the child’s parents went wide-eyed at the information. “B-but wasn’t the Phoenix last spotted more than a century ago? How could it be possible for our son to be the Phoenix when–”

“It is possible.” Lu Ming interrupted politely. “Unfortunately, I am unable to divulge any details. But this is the fact: your son _is_ the descendant of the Phoenix whose powers will manifest when he comes of age. This mark is proof.” He explained, and pointed at the unmistakable mark of a bird with flaming wings, sitting over the baby’s right hipbone.

Both parents seemed at a loss whether to rejoice at the news or otherwise. Bearing a child who will eventually be the very symbol that everyone worshipped meant that they _will_ be separated when the time comes, and they weren’t very sure whether they wanted that to happen. “Are we… _must_ we surrender him to the public when he… discovers what he can do?”

“If his identity is made known, then he will live in luxury, but it would also take a huge toll on his mental wellbeing as the other Phoenixes before him had suffered. If his identity is kept a secret, then he will be able to live a life of normalcy, but you will not be able to savour the taste of wealth that would otherwise be bestowed upon you by the people of EXO. But make no mistake – when the time comes for the Phoenix to be needed, he will have to step into public light. I, for one, would not announce his identity to the world, unless you wish for it to happen. The decision is yours to make.” Lu Ming bowed slightly in respect, and wordlessly took his leave without waiting for their answer.

It was not a decision that could be easily made, when their happiness was at stake.

‡‡

“Mama!” A boy of about seven, with heavy brows and bright eyes, tugged on his mother’s sleeve as she busied herself with folding the laundry, calling for her attention. “Mama! Can you tell me a story, please?”

The woman halted her activity and laughed softly, patting the space on the bed next to her. “Yes, dear. Come, lie down with mama. What story would you like to hear today?” Her son had always been fond of listening to stories ever since he had turned five, and it was part of their daily routine to isolate a quiet moment out of their difficult living conditions just to lie down together, the mother telling of myths and tall tales and folklore as her son watched her with large, watery eyes, mouth permanently in a small ‘o’ as he gets drawn into the storytelling wonderland, fascinated by tales of battles and hardships and victories and pretty fairies who granted wishes. He liked pretty fairies.

“I want to listen to something new!” The boy cheered, throwing himself onto the bed and laid spread-eagle on its wooden surface. They didn’t live a life of luxury, but he was very much contented with the time he got to spend with his mother; just the two of them. Even though he liked it when he was out playing with the other children in the village while his mother worked to put food on the table and to clothe them for the frigid winter months, he still loved it most when he was with her.

The woman pursed her lips in thought; she had practically exhausted the stories she knew in the past year or so. Her eyes travelled towards her son’s expectant expressions, probably wondering what new adventure he could embark on tonight, and all she could think of was that she didn’t want to let him down. And then a story pushed at her consciousness from the back of her mind, pleading to be told. She gave it a short consideration, and then a smile brightened up her weary face.

“Shall I tell you about a tale of dragons and phoenixes tonight, then?” She chimed, stroking his cheek tenderly. She could see from her son’s face that he was clueless, laughing when he asked, “Are they some sort of fairy too?” 

“No, they are not, silly,” the woman gently pinched her son’s nose, and pressed her cheek against his as she told her tale. “Dragons and phoenixes are mystical creatures, though no one knows where they came from. Some even say they’re demigods.”

The boy glanced up at her with his signature large, watery eyes. “What are demigods, mama?”

“Demigods are beings who are part human and part divine, sweetheart. Anyway, dragons are scaly and huge. Mama has never seen a dragon before – I don’t want to encounter one, either – but word has it that dragons can flatten an entire town with one foot. They destroy everything in sight, and breathe fire from their mouths which can burn everyone alive.”

“They’re scary!” The boy exclaimed, tugging his mother’s arm close to his chest in order to find some comfort. She cooed and smoothed his hair down, reassuring him that it was alright, that such horrendous beings do not exist.

“Yes, they are scary, but thankfully,” she began again once her son had been pacified, “the Gods above granted us with the Phoenix. Compared to dragons, phoenixes are much smaller in size, with beautiful wings of gold and yellow, and they seem to be burning with divine light as they soar through the sky. They are the ones who protect us from the dragons, appearing to fight against the evil dragons whenever the dragons threatened EXO with destruction.”

“Did they win?”

“Most of the time, yes; but the phoenix doesn’t _always_ win.”

The boy let out a whimper at the statement, expressions suddenly filled with worry. “Does that mean the dragons would continue killing people after winning?”

His mother had a contemplative look as she considered about his question, trying to remember the details of the folklore. She smiled when the answer came to her. “Oddly enough, they don’t. People who have witnessed these fights said that the dragons would disappear soon after the Phoenix has died, but no one knows why. Either way, with the appearance of the Phoenix, the Dragon will be sure to vanish. That is how the Phoenix became the symbol of hope and a bright future for us.”

“I wish I could see the phoenix… It sounds pretty…” The boy yawned and stretched a little in his position, staring sleepily up at his mother. A smile still brightened up her own features as she combed her fingers through his soft locks, watching him drift to sleep as he always would by the end of her storytelling sessions.

“I wish I could too, Fan. I wish I could.”

‡‡

For years since the birth of their second child, the Park family had lived in relative peace. It was easy for them to push the thoughts of their son’s impending separation from the family, and from their lives, especially when neither of them mentioned about their son being the descendant of the Phoenix. Their customary monthly visits to the Shrine of the Phoenix went on equally uneventfully. Lu Ming was a man of his word; even when he met the eyes of Park Kyungjoon and his wife, he greeted them as though they were just another family from the village, without any embellishments or added dignified titles, and neither did he shower them with extra attention or acknowledgements. He did not even engage in private conversations with the couple, if the couple hadn't first approached him.

That was, until today, when Park Kyungjoon once again found himself in an audience with the Protector of the Phoenix’s Shrine. Lu Ming remained unsettlingly silent as he sipped at his tea while watching Park Chanyeol play with his elder sister, all laughter and innocence and worry-free, hair soft in the early spring breeze.

“Master Lu, I apologise for being rude, but may I know what is the purpose of your visit?” Park Kyungjoon asked when the silence became too unbearable. His wife, who was seated next to him and pressed into his side, nodded in agreement. Then the realisation hit them with an impact so strong, the couple stopped breathing for a moment and gasped in horror. “Is it already time for him to– to be taken away?”

Much to their relief, Lu Ming slowly shook his head. “No, it is not. I have no intentions to stroll into your mansion and grab him just like that. I did inform you that the decision is in your hands, after all.” He replied calmly, taking another sip of his tea. “I am aware you have not arrived at a resolution. I am merely here to remind you this: your time is running out.” 

“How much time do we have left before his powers would manifest?” Park Haejung questioned in a bare whisper, as though the serene picture she beheld would shatter if she spoke any louder. It was like a mirage to her; like an illusion conjured by her mind to trick her into believing that her family is complete, even though she knew that the opposite was true. This _is_ real, this _is_ what she truly has, she told herself, but somewhere deep down, she knew that this wasn’t going to last, and she had to play a part in making the decision that will determine what her future would be like.

“He is now eight years of age, am I correct?” Lu Ming prompted, continuing when the couple nodded in affirmation. “Most descendants of the Phoenix’s bloodline would discover their abilities by the time they come of age at thirteen. I believe there is adequate time for you to decide by then: to keep him close to you, or to announce to the public that he is the symbol of hope everyone is searching, pining for.”

“I–is it excusable if we were to be selfish?” Kyungjoon sighed at the timeframe given; five years would pass by in a flash. They were avoiding the inevitable by putting the matter at the back of their minds, but seeing their son… seeing Chanyeol laughing and playing happily in their garden right now, they wished that he wasn’t born with the mark, that they didn’t have to make the choice at all.

Lu Ming sincerely smiled at them for what could be the first time since he had broken the news to them, eight years ago. “It is in the hearts of all parents to want their children to be with them. It is neither obligatory nor is it fair for you, or for him to be separated from the family institution. I am a parent, too. I understand your reluctance, and I find it perfectly justifiable. Again, the decision is yours, and perhaps, his, when he is mature enough to decide what is right for him.” He waved his hand in Chanyeol’s direction, before he got up and excused himself with a respectful bow.

Kyungjoon and Haejung later found themselves seated on the straw mat laid on the veranda as they watched their children play, a scene identical to the time before Lu Ming had paid them a surprise visit bearing the grim news, but their inner state of mind was significantly different: deep in turmoil, indecisive, unwilling.

They wished they could return to the point of time when they were free of worries, but it was not to be.

‡‡

The boy had his head dipped low as he quickly made his way through the crowd, teeth tightly clenched to bear the pain from being pelted by stones and thrash and various other undesirable items, over and over and over again. He learned that it was pointless to search for help, even from his so-called friends, from the very beginning of this angry mob which had congregated and swelled in size to line both sides of the street. They were no longer his friends; rather, they were a part of this angry mob that had turned on him without giving him the opportunity to defend for himself.

His mother’s words rang clear and distinct in his head, over the angry shouts and abusive words that were being hurled at him together with the physical objects, _the Dragon is the evil entity that must be destroyed, and the Phoenix is the saviour of mankind_ ; she had told him this before.

But he has done no evil. He wouldn’t even step on an ant because his mother always, _always_ discouraged him from killing living beings unnecessarily. He wasn’t evil; he wasn’t like these “Dragons” depicted in the stories his mother used to tell him when he was younger. Even so, why was he receiving retribution for his unfortunate fate, his accursed bloodline?

He never wanted this life. He never wanted this body. He never _asked_ to be born with the Dragon’s powers.

Wu Yifan squeezed his eyes shut and forced his stomach contents backwards when the recollections of his shocking discovery came to mind, and how _his own mother_ had inched away from him, the fear and horror in her eyes engraved in the deepest recesses of his own mind. His shoulder blade throbbed dully in response to his rising anger, a reminder of how a pair of dark, scaly wings tore through his flesh and skin and spread out on either side of him barely days ago. He was sure that it was an indicator that the wings were going to make its presence known again.

His anger had, in fact, been the cause of this discovery – for the sake of protecting his mother, no less. If there was anything he couldn’t swallow, it was watching his mother get trampled on, verbally or otherwise, by wealthy bastards who think they owned her life just because she was working for them. He was only thirteen years of age, but that didn’t stop Yifan from being overprotective of his own mother, neither did it mean that he was still a child at heart; he was far from that. He liked to think that he knew better than these so-called adults who probably didn’t even know the word ‘respect’. The pent up rage and frustration built up over the years, only to be unleashed that morning when he tried to put up a fight against these people.

Seeing the spineless bastards scamper off in fear was the only thing that made Yifan thankful he had the Dragon’s powers. Watching his mother put a great distance between them, however, only served to tempt Yifan into ripping these very wings off his own back. The way she avoided his eyes while saying _we should go home before someone finds out about you_ (and not _we should go home before they return and do something worse to us_ , Yifan noted), the way she withdrew her arm from him as though it came in contact with hot iron when he tried to nurse the cut on her limb…

He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white at the memory, still trying to swallow the anger and bile in his throat. He wasn’t going to retaliate, wasn’t going to let his accursed powers take control of his being. Yifan continued to chant _stay calm stay calm stay calm_ in his head, because he _knew_ that unleashing his powers would only invite more scorn, and provoke an even greater uproar from the villagers.

Yifan stumbled to the left when something _hard_ practically smashed the side of his head in, throwing him off balance and effectively wiped out his sense of vision for several seconds. When his sight slowly swam back into function, he realised that there were some red liquid dripping in front of his right eye; _blood_. He groggily searched his surroundings for the offending object, eyes widening in horror and disgust at the blood-stained brick lying ahead of him.

“Tch, that brick isn’t even enough to kill the boy? He’s indeed a monster!” He hears someone shout over the ringing in his right ear and whirs in the presumed direction of the voice, only to realise that it was his best friend’s father fuming at him. His best friend cowered behind his father’s back, averting his gaze when Yifan’s met his. _Trust no one_ , he instinctively thought.

Yifan staggered back in fear when a villager brought even more bricks to the location, knowing that if he didn’t make a run for it _now_ , he would definitely be lying on the streets grasping at the final strands of his life within the next five minutes. Nevertheless, his head throbbed and swam with even the most minor of movements, rendering him unable to carry out his plans. He groaned inaudibly when he realised that there was only one way for him to make his escape, but he had no choice.

For the first time since his powers had materialised, Yifan willingly called for its help, allowing the dark wings to break through his already-torn shirt and reach for the skies.

In that split second, the horrified screams of the villagers sounded like music in his ears, even though his heart told him that this wasn’t right.

‡‡

“Master Chanyeol! Master Chanyeol! Please, stop running around like that! You’ll get hurt!” The butler of the Park household tasked to take care of the young master shouted at the top of his voice as he chased after his eleven-year-old master, trying to match up to the boy’s pace. He doubled over to catch his breath, his eyes never leaving the boy’s ever-retreating back, as he wondered what he had done to deserve such a job.

Park Chanyeol was known amongst the house staff as the little angel with a concealed devil’s tail; sweet and innocent in one moment, the epitome of a gremlin in the next – especially when he was excited. None of them seemed to be able to pacify the young master or coax him into staying put; no one but his parents. Unfortunately, the master and the mistress of the manor were unavailable, leaving the butler to be fully in charge of Chanyeol’s wellbeing and safety.

Chanyeol, on the other hand, laughed and giggled as he zipped across the garden that had been his playground ever since he could remember, determined to make things as difficult as he could for his butler. He didn’t like being controlled, being watched over every second of the day, because it made him feel suffocated. He was always looking for ways to wriggle out of the scrutiny of the housemaids and butlers who were tasked to care for him – and succeeded for the most part.

Chanyeol’s sprint through the garden slowly came to a halt as he neared the back entrance of the house, however, his eyebrows knotted in a small frown at the uneasy feeling he was getting in the pit of his stomach. He felt almost queasy at the overwhelming sensation, wondering what exactly he was worrying about. A query into his own mind drew blanks, and Chanyeol cocked his head to the side, staring at nothing in particular.

_Climb up the stones_ , a small voice at the back of his mind told Chanyeol, causing him to jump in alarm. The voice was familiar yet unfamiliar to him; it felt as though the voice had been there with him all this while, yet Chanyeol was sure that this was the first time he had ever heard it. It languidly crawled into his consciousness, egging him on to follow the command, making his limbs twitch in response.

And climb up the stones at the sidewall he did, amidst the frightened shouts from the butler who had finally caught up with him but stayed firmly on the ground because he didn’t dare make the climb after his young master. Chanyeol’s limbs moved deftly despite his young age, a result of the years he spent scaling trees just to spite his caretakers, and he soon found himself at the highest step, craning his neck to peek over the wall. He still felt confused at his own actions, unsure about what he was supposed to look for, or why he was even here. But the inner voice told him with full conviction that he should keep his eyes peeled. Chanyeol had no choice but to oblige; it was as though every fibre of his body gained its own mind.

Chanyeol let out an audible gasp when his sights finally locked on a figure that lay hunched in the small alleyway that lead to the back entrance of his house. He wasn’t sure _who_ , or _what_ it was, but his mind nudged at him incessantly, urging him to at least take a look. He wasted no time in descending the stones, practically demanding his butler to _open the backdoor, right this instance!_ , sounding much more authoritative than any other boy his age.

It took him several more pushes before his butler finally relented to his request, and Chanyeol found himself running across the deserted back lanes towards the figure. He visibly paled at the scarlet, metallic liquid that stained his palms the moment he set his hands on what he could now identify was a person, and his own vision immediately blacked out.

※

The boy clutched on tightly to his mother’s skirt as he watched the events unfold in front of him. Her hands automatically came up to smooth down his hair in an attempt to comfort him, silently telling him that everything was alright, that everything was going to be alright. He gulped and hid behind his mother when the healer tosses another blood-soaked cloth into the tray on the wooden floor, feeling the nausea taking over him once again.

Chanyeol had fainted soon after finding the boy currently lying on the bed of the guest room, all battered and bloodied on the ground, but when he had regained his senses, the young master of the Park household had insisted on checking on the boy he had just helped. Even though he wasn’t a fan of blood, Chanyeol had braved himself to stick next to his parents, who oversaw the healer as the man patched the unconscious boy up. There were several occasions where Chanyeol had very nearly passed out again, in particular when the healer was stitching up the larger wounds on the boy, but he inhaled deeply and continued watching despite his mother’s many advices for him to step out of the room.

He felt oddly responsible for the boy, even if the stranger seemed to be older than him by several years, at the very least. Chanyeol couldn’t pinpoint what made him feel that way, especially when he had never crossed path with this person before – he was sure. It confused Chanyeol, but he didn’t voice his concerns.

“How is the boy?” Park Kyungjoon spoke up when the healer began to clean up and pack his things.

A deep frown which spoke of worries and uncertainties was etched on the man’s face as he mulled over what to say. “He had lost _a lot_ of blood from whatever he had gone through before the young master found him,” the healer said, nodding slightly at Chanyeol in acknowledgement of his presence. “He is lucky to have been found; otherwise he might have bled to death on the streets by now. It is mostly from cuts and the various gashes scattered all over, but I found two deep wounds on his back which, peculiarly, did not seem to bleed.”

“Will he be alright?”Chanyeol chanced the question, looking up at the healer with his wide, watery eyes.

He didn’t understand the implications of the healer’s words when the elderly man told him, “Let us hope for the best, young master.”

‡‡

Yifan sat by the window in silence, gazing out at the beautiful garden of flowers blooming in the calmness of spring. The sound of unadulterated laughter floated in the air as a pair of siblings ran about the garden, chasing each other around – the girl was a year older than he was, and the boy lagged two years behind him in terms of age – and a silent scoff escaped Yifan’s lips. He slammed the wooden blinds shut, trudging all the way across the room and dropped himself on the bed with his arms folded behind his head and a scowl on his face.

Any form of joyfulness sickened him thoroughly.

At the tender age of fourteen, even if he may be considered as a kid in the adults’ eyes, he was far from. He had probably experienced much, much more than any average adolescent of the same age – things that an adult might not even be able to pull through.

Any promises of happiness, of a good life; they didn’t exist in Yifan’s life. They no longer did. Not after the harrowing experience of nearly getting stoned to death by people whom he trusted in, people whom he thought would’ve protected him at all costs. These very people bayed for his blood, and there was no way in _hell_ he would forget that. He considered himself an orphan now; his mother was probably gravely ashamed of him, of what he was, even though he had no control over the situation.

He never thought he would ever come around to hating his own mother, but he was proved wrong again, just like the many times he had put his faith in someone else, only to be betrayed in the end.

He had since forgotten how to trust in others.

Yifan caught himself dozing off on the bed just then, and he shook his head to push the sleepiness away, making his vision swim for a second. When his eyes finally refocused moments later, he was nearly shocked out of his skin by the sight of a pair of large, watery, unblinking eyes staring down at him. He immediately sat up and backed into the wall, his eyes growing to the size of saucers from the shock, and barely swallowed the gasp which almost left his throat.

When the younger boy remained silent, Yifan _glared_ at him with all his might, hoping the boy would pick up on the hint and explain his presence in his room.

Thankfully, he did, but his sunshine mood was too much for Yifan to handle. “Good morning!” The boy chirruped with a wide, toothy grin, waving his hands in an almost-comical manner in greeting. “I heard your slam your blinds shut so I figured you were already awake!”

Yifan narrowed his eyes, sending a silent message that said, _no shit; you’re standing in my room, invading my privacy by staring me down_. He was tempted to translate his thoughts into actual words, but he didn’t want to give the boy the satisfaction of hearing him speak.

It had been close to a year since Yifan had cheated death, and woke up in this large and cosy house with clean clothes that did not scratch his skin, on a comfortable bed complete with sheets which kept him warm through even the most frigid of nights in spring. He was faced with the exact same situation back then; the young master of this household (Chanyeol, if he remembered correctly) had stood over his bed and watched him with great intent until Yifan stirred from his sleep, nearly giving Yifan a heart attack even then. Yifan vaguely wondered why he wasn’t already immune to such occurrences by now.

“Do you want some breakfast? I’ll get the servants to bring your tray in.” Chanyeol said again, the grin still plastered on his face. It really amazed Yifan as to how Chanyeol could remain so cheerful all the time, but thought it was probably because Chanyeol hadn’t really seen the world yet. The circumstances that surrounded their backgrounds were on two ends of a spectrum; Chanyeol was pampered all his life, while Yifan had to work his ass off and had lived in poverty ever since he could remember.

Yes, that was probably it.

Yifan scowled at him, his expressions clearly telling Chanyeol that _no, I don’t want breakfast_. Yifan knew that it was Chanyeol’s pretence to stick in his room longer than really necessary, trying to get him to talk. He thought he was already kind enough to entertain Chanyeol when the boy spoke to him – it was a far cry from the times when Yifan had duly ignored Chanyeol and walked away from him whenever Chanyeol tried to get his attention – and Chanyeol was _really_ pushing his patience too far.

“Come on, Kris. You’re going to need all the energy you can to get yourself through the day.” Chanyeol pleaded again. Yifan was about to reject his offer for the last time, when he did a double take at something Chanyeol had said.

“What did you just call me?” He spluttered without even thinking about it, his voice hoarse and raspy from disuse. He regretted it the moment the smile on Chanyeol’s face grew into Cheshire cat proportions. Yifan groaned and mentally kicked himself for falling for Chanyeol’s trap so easily.

Chanyeol did some sort of weird victory dance in Yifan’s room, before flashing a peace sign at him. “Finally got you to talk! I _told_ you I would eventually find a way!” He announced, and Yifan was reminded of the time when Chanyeol had decided with immense determination that he would get the older boy to speak to him.

Yifan was impressed by his persistence, really.

“You are seriously annoying, Park Chanyeol.” The older boy huffed half-heartedly, thinking that since he had let the words slip, he might as well continue entertaining Chanyeol so that he could be left alone sooner.

Chanyeol grinned at him. “You don’t mean that, Kris.”

“Why do you keep calling me Kris? I don’t think I have told you my name before.” Yifan frowned at him.

The younger boy perked up at the statement. “That’s _precisely_ why. Did I manage to guess your name right?”

“No.” Yifan stated curtly, mildly amused at the way Chanyeol’s expressions fell, as though his sweets had just been stolen from him. He barely managed to suppress the small upturn of his lips, however.

“Will you tell me your real name, then?” Chanyeol asked hopefully, trying to squeeze the most out of Yifan’s good mood for that day.

“No.” Yifan replied again, and ruffled Chanyeol’s silky straight hair with his broad, calloused hand when the boy flashed a pout at him. “But I guess you can keep calling me with that. It sounds nice.” He thought it was probably time for him to discard his previous identity, and attempt to live a new life, but not without keeping his secret close to his heart.

When Chanyeol bounced out of the room in a joyful mood moments later with the promise of a scrumptious breakfast, Yifan – now _Kris_ – allowed a small smile to pull at the corner of his lips. Yet another part of his frozen heart began to be thawed by the boy called Chanyeol, and Kris wondered just what he had done to deserve someone who cared for him with such genuine intentions, even if Chanyeol didn't know anything about Kris's past, or what he exactly he was.


	3. act 02

The air was heavy with grief and sorrow, the solemn atmosphere weighing down on everyone’s hearts. Chanyeol, in particular, fidgeted ceaselessly in his position, with the occasional shuffling of his feet and the darting of his eyes around the room to take in his surroundings. It was a difficult task to accomplish, because he had to keep his head bowed low as a sign of respect. The gooseflesh-inducing chanting that filled the room was making him feel uneasy, but he thought it might be due to the fact that he wasn’t used to such serious, sombre events. He has never had to attend such occasions before, but he didn't ask his parents why they thought this different. 

His parents stood to his left, their hands tightly clasped together as they discussed something in a low voice. Chanyeol decidedly disliked how burdened his parents appeared to be, but being a child still in their eyes, he knew they would smile at him and tell him that everything was alright if he asked.

Chanyeol heaved a silent sigh and glanced towards his right, where Kris’s eyes were shut in a true sign of respect. The older boy seemed so serene at times like these, when he was not hiding away in his own world or drowning himself in his own worries. Chanyeol was silently glad that he had managed to persuade Kris to come along with him and his parents and elder sister for the event today; at least he didn’t feel too out of place for being the only young one around. His sister was old enough to qualify as an adult.

“Fellow villagers,” the head of the village suddenly boomed, his voice cutting through the chanting which Chanyeol did not realise had stopped, jolting Chanyeol into full attention. The boy scowled when an unmistakable snicker erupted from his right; Kris’s lips were pressed into a thin line from his attempts at not laughing.

 _Pay attention_ , Kris mouthed to him when he caught sight of Chanyeol’s glare, just as the elderly village head continued with his words. “Today we are gathered here for this solemn occasion, to pay our last respects and bid a very respectful figure farewell. Master Lu was a selfless person who had dedicated his entire life into serving the Shrine of the Phoenix, becoming the keeper of the Phoenix’s secrets and the leader of our faith. It is unfortunate that Master Lu was not able to witness the awakening of the Phoenix – wherever the Phoenix may be – before his unfortunate demise, but let us all offer our prayers, for him to meet the Phoenix in his afterlife, and be rewarded for his timeless dedication.”

Everyone around Chanyeol bowed their heads down in a silent murmur, and he scrambled to follow suit. He had heard about stories of the Phoenix, and how it symbolised hope and a better tomorrow across the land of EXO, and Chanyeol was truly curious about its existence. His mother had told him the Phoenix hasn’t been spotted for the past century, but on such occasions, Chanyeol would notice how she would avert her gaze from him, as though wanting to hide the hurt in her eyes.

Chanyeol never understood the reasons behind her actions.

Chanyeol raised his head again when the chanting stopped, and the village head spoke once more. “In accordance to Master Lu’s will, and in view of his son’s early demise, his position as the Protector of the Shrine of the Phoenix will therefore be passed on to his grandson, Lu Han.”

At this, the village people became restless. Chanyeol realised the reason behind their unrest when another young boy, not very much older than Chanyeol was, stepped out of the shadows and into the centre of the crowd. He was already dressed in the Protector’s robes, no doubt tailor-made to suit his small, lean frame, but his head was lowered, as though he did not have the courage to face the public yet. His eyes were bloodshot and brimming with tears, a commonplace feature of someone who was still mourning for a loved one’s loss, but he was not crying. Chanyeol suddenly felt sorry for the boy called Lu Han; it wasn’t fair for him to be thrust into the adult world so soon, burdened with responsibilities which shouldn't have been placed on him until at least several more years down the line.

“I understand you may have your scepticisms.” A loud, firm voice spoke up then, slicing through the murmurs of disapproval flooding the room. Everyone looked around to search for the owner of the voice, because it definitely did not belong to the village head. Their attentions were instantly drawn back towards Lu Han when he took another step forward, his arms folded in front of him. “ _‘Can he handle the responsibility?’_ , _‘Isn’t he too young to assume this role?’_ ; these are the running questions in your minds, are they not?”

Chanyeol found himself being amazed by Lu Han when the crowd quieted down to listen to him. It was not an easy feat to have the adults hear a child out, but Lu Han commanded their attention regardless. Just then, Lu Han and Chanyeol exchanged gazes for a split second when the new Protector swept his eyes over the crowd, and Chanyeol felt his blood freeze in motion, then stirring in response to an invisible force, an odd sensation tingling beneath his skin. It was gone the moment Lu Han's gaze left his form. 

_What was going on?_

Lu Han continued with his speech when he made sure everyone was paying undivided attention to him. “Rest assured. My grandfather had trained me from young, and made sure I learned the ropes and responsibilities of being the Protector of the Phoenix’s Shrine. I am confident that I will be able to handle this role well, and in turn, I humbly ask for your trust in me.” The crowd erupted in a multitude of surprised gasps when Lu Han went down on his knees and pressed his body as close to the ground as possible – it was the highest form of paying one’s respect, and required oneself to throw away all his pride to perform.

Chanyeol’s fists were clenched tightly as he watched the adults debate on the matter, and in the end, his emotions got the better of him. He surprised everyone when he walked towards Lu Han and pulled the older boy up, before he turned to the crowd, ignoring his parents’ horrified expressions and Lu Han’s intense, watchful eyes. “Should we not give him a chance to prove his worth, before we condemn him for his age? Or would you rather leave the Phoenix’s Shrine without its Protector?”

“Know your place, child! You do not have the right to speak up!” One of the villagers lashed out, and Kris seemed to have wanted to retort to that, but the village chief was quick to alleviate the tension.

“Please, stop this nonsense. We are still mourning for the loss of Master Lu, and he will not be happy to see us turning against his grandson. Please respect his will; no further objections will be entertained.”

When Chanyeol was dragged back into place by his parents, he exchanged gazes with Lu Han again and felt his blood go cold, with an unmistakable sensation of someone staring right into the deepest part of his soul stirring within him. Ridiculous as it may sound, it was as though Lu Han was trying to tell him, “I know exactly _what_ you are.”

He had never felt so vulnerable in his life before.

‡‡

Yifan nearly fell off his bed when he woke up to a head of hair in his face. It took him several moments longer to establish his bearings, with his heart pounding strongly against his chest, that he remembered where he was, and that the head of hair belonged to none other than Chanyeol. It was a common sight for Yifan and anyone else that walked into his room unannounced the first thing in the morning to see Chanyeol in bed with Yifan, after they had paid a visit to the Phoenix’s Shrine for the funeral of the previous Protector.

Memories – both his own and those he knew didn’t belong to him – flooded his dreams since that day, often waking Yifan in the middle of the night from the nightmares of ‘him’ killing someone. He would never do something like that, he knew, but having to stare at his own hands, tainted an obscene shade of crimson with the morbid stench of death emanating from them night after night, it made Yifan begin to think that he was the one committing all these ghastly deeds.

He knew his sanity was still somewhat intact, but Yifan thought he was close to losing it completely. It was probably only a matter of time before he truly did. 

Somehow, Chanyeol found out about these nightmares soon after they had begun – perhaps Yifan had been screaming and yelling in his sleep; he wasn’t sure – and had started wriggling his way under Yifan’s sheets, his arms finding their hold around Yifan’s waist. It had a calming effect on Yifan, and he couldn’t find himself complaining about Chanyeol’s intrusion of his private space even though his heart nearly leapt out of his throat the first few times.

Being prudent not to wake Chanyeol up from his sleep, Yifan ran a hand through Chanyeol’s soft hair in a gentle manner, savouring how the strands of hair felt beneath his fingers. He stiffened a little when Chanyeol tossed around in his sleep and ended up facing him instead, a soft pout on the younger boy’s face. There was an odd feeling of warmth when Chanyeol turned Yifan’s waist into a huggable material, and Yifan couldn’t help the smile that found its way to his lips.

Then Yifan pulled away abruptly when a sharp pain shot through his back, the area over his shoulder blades throbbing doggedly. He bit on his lower lip to hold in the growl which threatened to rip through his throat, mentally willing the pain to go away. It served as a cruel reminder that he was the Dragon’s descendant, even if he didn’t want to admit it, even if he attempted to push it to the back of his mind – and if he wasn’t careful enough with his emotions, he would end up turning into the killer he was so determined to run away from.

Above all, he didn’t want to get Chanyeol inflicted if he ever lost control of his sanity. Yifan didn’t think he could forgive himself if he did.

‡‡

Chanyeol moaned miserably in bed, feeling his body aching all over, his mind cast in a feverish daze. He had gone back to his room early from the banquet his parents threw to celebrate his coming-of-age with much reluctance, but there was nothing he could do except to lie in bed because it hurt for him to even move a finger. As much as he wanted to entertain the guests and to enjoy himself on his birthday, he couldn’t. He didn’t even feel like talking to Kris, much less anyone else, and that spoke volumes about his condition.

It was the first time Chanyeol had ever become so ill. He was usually a healthy child, spending most of his time running about and he barely ever liked sitting down for long periods of time. Even when he was down with a fever he would still be relatively well. Chanyeol thought it might be due to the abrupt change in weather, and thought nothing more of it.

But sleep did not come easy to him. Although he was exhausted beyond belief, his mind was completely awake, and it served as a constant reminder that his body was aching to hell and back. Chanyeol was also suddenly aware that his body was burning up from within – much more than the usual fever he would get – and beads of sweat were beginning to form at the sides of his head and down his back, creating a sticky sheen on the surface of his skin, adding to the discomfort that was already plaguing him greatly.

Deciding that he could no longer take any of this, Chanyeol weakly pulled himself to stand and walked towards his door with the help of the furniture around him as support, fully intending to take his parents’ earlier advice at calling the village healer. He winced a little at the thought, knowing Kris would probably laugh at him for pretending he was strong enough to get through this bout of illness without any treatment.

Chanyeol’s legs went weak before he could even get out of his own room, and fell painfully on his knees. Even his groan came out muffled, unable to find the strength to do anything at all. Every breath made his lung sear in pain, the burning sensation climbing in intensity by the second, and he could only roll around weakly on the ground, hoping someone would walk by and discover him.

Just as he registered a brand new throbbing ache in his back, Chanyeol roared in pain when something _hot_ pierced through his skin, a stark difference from the cold winter air around him. It felt as though someone had pressed a searing hot brandisher against his skin, and the pain was so agonising that he saw white instead.

In the throes of his immense suffering and on the brink of passing out, Chanyeol vaguely felt a pair of delicate but strong arms pulling him to stand, along with a soft, “You have finally awakened, Phoenix.”

And then his vision blacked out.

‡‡

Yifan ran into his room in a state of panic and disarray, slamming the door shut behind him before he leaned against it and slid to the floor. He buried his head in his arms, fingers yanking the roots of his own hair in confusion, unable to bring himself to believe in what he had just seen.

It couldn’t be true. Yifan wanted to believe that it was a mere illusion on his part, but his mind insisted with full conviction that he has met his destined enemy.

He somehow wished that he didn’t worry about Chanyeol this much, that he hadn’t slipped out of the feast earlier just to check on Chanyeol’s condition. Now he could not erase the mental image of a flaming pair of wings of amber and gold he saw tearing through the soft skin of Chanyeol’s back – much like his own wings had, only more beautiful, less impure – with his very own eyes, and the more he tried to forget it, the more the images seemed to burn themselves into the recesses of his mind, as if mocking Yifan.

Yifan bit onto his own forearm and screamed his frustrations into his own flesh, a futile attempt in banishing the agony he was feeling within. God seemed to love playing tasteless practical jokes with him – first by sentencing him into the lineage that bore the Dragon’s blood, and then allowing him to meet and actually be friends with Chanyeol before revealing his identity as the Phoenix’s descendant.

_Between the Phoenix and the Dragon, only one can live._

Yifan squeezed his eyes shut at the thought. He didn’t know about Chanyeol, but he was certain that there was no way _he_ could hurt the younger boy, even if his life was on the line. He felt extremely torn between the fate that governed his bloodline, and his reluctance in inflicting any form of injury on Chanyeol. He hoped there wouldn’t be a day when he would be forced to make a choice.

But there was another myriad of uncertainties which lay ahead. Yifan had no idea whether he would still possess a strong hold on his sanity and conscious mind when the Dragon’s blood took control of his body – he hasn’t been in the form long enough to know or to find out. It seemed highly unlikely from his only experience, when he had landed outside Chanyeol’s mansion with absolutely no recollection how he had ended up there.

“How does it feel to find out that the only person you care about deeply in this world is your mortal enemy? Does it hurt more than your awakening?” A deeply amused and mischievous voice suddenly spoke up, distracting Yifan from his thoughts. He glanced up in fear, trying to find the owner of the voice. Yifan had been leaning against the door this whole time, and the windows were shut tight – so how did this person, whoever he was, get into his room?

“Who’s there?” He hedged, cautiously pulling himself to stand.

At the question, a young boy who was slightly shorter than him emerged from a corner of Yifan’s room, his lips pulled up into a slight smirk. In the moonlight, Yifan noticed skin of olive, and eyes dark as the night skies. Nothing about the boy screamed familiar to him, and Yifan’s eyes narrowed.

“Who are you?” Yifan growled again. He had a natural aversion to anyone who wasn’t Chanyeol or Chanyeol’s family members, a trait that seemed to have been ingrained in him ever since that incident at his own village. The tenseness of his muscles was obvious even in the dark, he was sure, but he was more than ready to take this boy down in a fight if he had to.

“My name is Kai.” To his surprise, the boy introduced himself, though the smirk was still on his face. “And I know exactly _what_ you are, oh great descendant of the Dragon.”

Yifan’s blood went cold from the mocking tone in Kai’s words. No one was supposed to know. The secret was supposed to have followed Yifan to the grave, if he did not lose himself along the way.

The boy seemed to have noticed that, and he chuckled darkly.

“Surprised? Don’t be. I know a lot of things, and you being the Dragon’s descendant is only a tiny part of that,” he said, sauntering away to take a seat on Yifan’s bed. He took in the room around him before his gaze settled on Yifan again. “This is quite a nice place, huh? It is definitely a far cry from your run-down hut in the village–”

“I am going to ask this one more time, Kai. Who are you and what do you want with me?” Yifan practically snarled, his muscles tensed in a defensive stance. He could feel his accursed wings stirring beneath the scarred surface of his skin, on the brink of awakening for the first time in several years, and Yifan consciously suppressed it. This place was dangerous, far too dangerous to make his true identity known. He didn’t want to lose the tiny semblance of a family he had here.

Kai’s smirk grew wider, as though he knew what exactly Yifan was thinking about. “Don’t fight against the temptation; set the Dragon free, and you’ll be spared most of the agony. The more you fight against it, the more it’ll hurt.”

“I don't care–”

“Well too bad.” He interrupted Yifan, shrugging nonchalantly. “If you want it that way, then so be it.”

“ _Stop avoiding my questions._ ”

Kai rolled his eyes at Yifan this time, and heaved an exaggerated sigh. “You’re so impatient, just like your predecessors.” He waved, before he assumed a serious expression which made him look several years older. “I’m known as the Shadow Guardian, and I am the only person who bears the answers to all your questions.” There was a short pause, and then the widening of Kai’s smile in lieu with Yifan’s thoughts. “If you think it is all a bunch of nonsense, fair enough. I will be around if you decide to find out more about your lineage.”

With that, Kai disappeared into the shadows, much like his nickname had suggested, leaving Yifan gawking at the suddenly-empty spot on his bed, wondering how the fuck Kai had managed to read his thoughts.

‡‡

_Stay out of this, I do not want you messing things up on my side_ , Chanyeol seemed to hear in the haze of his sleep. There were two voices engaged in a quiet but heated conversation, one of which Chanyeol vaguely recognised belonged to Lu Han. He attempted to pin an identity on the owner of the second voice, but ended up groaning when the pain shot through his head and wracked havoc in the confines of his skull.

The tenseness was suddenly palpable in the air around him when they realised he was waking up, accompanied by a sharp gasp from one of them, before a curt _‘go!’_ followed. A pair of hands held Chanyeol’s arm firmly soon after, attempting to hold him still on the bed.

“Master Chanyeol, you simply mustn’t push yourself.” Lu Han advised, voice soothing, and Chanyeol found himself wordlessly obeying the older boy. His head still hurt a great deal, and his muscles felt as though they were made of lead, heavy and unyielding. Lu Han seemed to have sensed his discomfort, for Chanyeol felt his head being lifted from the surface he was lying on, and something soft was slotted beneath him to cushion his head.

When the worst of the nausea and pain had subsided, Chanyeol gingerly forced his eyes open, and found himself staring up at Lu Han’s gentle expressions. Out of sheer surprise and the sudden realisation that he was lying down on Lu Han’s lap, Chanyeol flushed scarlet and flailed about and attempted to push himself to sit, but he found out that Lu Han was much stronger than he appeared to be, holding him down without much of an effort.

“Master Chanyeol, please.” Lu Han said in a quiet voice, but there was a certain firmness behind his words this time. “You’re in no condition to be moving about, so please, take my meagre offer of some form of comfort and lie still.” He reminded Chanyeol of an older brother to him, just like Kris, only gentler and kinder with his words.

Chanyeol acquiesced, and pressed the back of his forearm against his eyes. “Where am I?” He croaked, hand flying up to hold his neck when his voice came out much deeper than he remembered it to be. Surely the fever wasn’t capable enough to cause such a drastic change?

“You are in the Shrine of the Phoenix, Master Chanyeol.” The older boy informed, amending his words before Chanyeol had the opportunity to panic. “I found you outside your room, and I figured that you wouldn’t want your parents to worry.” Chanyeol leaned into Lu Han’s touch when the older boy brushed his hair out of his face, a reminiscence of how his mother always calmed him down when he was distressed.

Then Chanyeol realised that Lu Han was addressing him with ‘Master’ – it was a term which indicated one’s servitude to another, and Chanyeol _knew_ he was not worthy of such a title from the Protector of the Shrine, because he was nothing more but a regular villager.

He was surprised when Lu Han chuckled at nothing in particular, even more so at the words which followed. “You are definitely befitting of the title, Master Chanyeol.”

“What– How did you–”

“I can see into another person’s mind.” Lu Han supplemented helpfully, and Chanyeol fought against the crawl beneath his skin. He suddenly felt extremely exposed in Lu Han’s presence. “And trust me when I say you are worthy of it.”

Chanyeol frowned at him. “But why? I don’t understand.”

“Are you really sure you want to find out now? This is probably going to be difficult for you to digest.” The new Protector of the Shrine asked, looking at Chanyeol seriously now. The intensity of his stare made Chanyeol squirm uncomfortably, and Chanyeol struggled to avert his gaze from Lu Han.

“I’m. I’m sure it’s not that bad, so yes.” Chanyeol said meekly. “Yes, I’d like to hear out the reasons behind your insistence.”

Except, Chanyeol had learned moments too late, that he should never distrust any of Lu Han’s words, because things _can_ indeed be much worse than the petty scenarios he conjures up in his mind, too green from inexperience. It was just that – an overly simplified view of the world he lived in.

It took no more than five minutes to have his world crashing down around him, the incessant buzzing in his ears making up for the sudden silence that engulfed the room.

‡‡

Yifan paced around the living area restlessly, throwing worried glances at the main entrance from time to time, hoping that someone would show up through the doors soon. It had been several _days_ since Chanyeol had disappeared from his mansion. No one knew where the young master was, and the Park household was thrown into a silent panic.

Of course, Yifan knew better. He had witnessed Chanyeol’s awakening as the Phoenix on the night of the younger boy’s disappearance, and in the weakened state he was in from the fever, Yifan was worried that Chanyeol would take a much longer time than Yifan had to recuperate. The thought that there was probably no one there to look after Chanyeol worried Yifan greatly. Chanyeol was much too young, too unfamiliar with the harshness of the outside world to be alone right now.

Yifan worried on his lower lip.

He knew that as the descendant of the Dragon, he _had_ to learn how to distance himself from Chanyeol, before their inevitable clash happened. The stronger the attachment was between them, the harder it would be for them to fight against the ultimate destiny running in their blood. There was no saying whether they would lose hold on their conscious minds once the Dragon and the Phoenix took over their bodies, and it was one of those questions which left Yifan stumped.

But at the same time, Yifan didn’t want to. He wanted to hold on to the little moments he would get to spend with Chanyeol, regardless of how little time they had left. That was when Yifan knew he cared too much about Chanyeol for his own good, and he was treading on the thin line which separated friendship and something more.

His head shot up when the telltale creaking of rusted hinges pierced his ears, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a relieved smile when Chanyeol finally showed up. Though appearing exhausted and slightly harassed, the younger boy was virtually unharmed and uninjured. Yifan was about to run up to Chanyeol, though something about his expressions made Yifan freeze in his steps.

In place of the usually cheerful boy, was someone sombre, the latent anger sizzling beneath the surface. Yifan could see all too clearly how Chanyeol’s nails were digging into the flesh of his palms, almost to the point of drawing blood, judging by the way his fists were clenched tightly by his sides, and he felt the sudden urge to pull Chanyeol into his arms.

Before Yifan could even reach for Chanyeol, the younger boy’s parents were already fussing over him, hugging him desperately as though they had very nearly lost him to the unknown. Yifan’s eyes widened when Chanyeol roughly pushed them away, eyes burning with the anger that was foreign to everyone in this household. The hurt flashed across his mother’s features, making Yifan feel as though he’d just been physically kicked in the gut. This wasn’t right.

“Don’t touch me! You’re liars! All of you!” Chanyeol practically shouted, shoulders heaving violently from his failing attempts at keeping his emotions in check. The atmosphere in the hall suddenly turned cold, and Yifan noticed how the servants were throwing unsure glances at each other, mouthing words that only they could understand.

Sensing that some private family discussion was due, Chanyeol’s father sent all the servants away with a stern warning to not eavesdrop on their conversation, but kept Yifan with them when he had moved to leave with the servants. Chanyeol kept oddly silent through this, watching his parents with such hateful eyes that made Yifan’s insides churn sickeningly. This wasn’t the Park Chanyeol he knew.

“Chanyeol, it is unsightly of you to be behaving as such after disappearing for days.” Park Kyungjoon said evenly when they were finally left alone. Next to him, his wife clutched onto his arm for support, pale as a sheet of paper. “We have been worried sick.”

“Are those words even sincere? Do you really care?” Chanyeol sneered, and Yifan felt his own anger soar. His parents didn’t warrant such hostility from their own son, especially after losing sleep for the past few days, worrying about him.

“Chanyeol–” Yifan raised his voice, wanting to kick some sense into the younger boy, to let him see that his parents had nothing but immense love for him, but backed down when Chanyeol’s father squeezed his shoulder, a silent reassurance that he’ll settle this.

Yifan watched as Kyungjoon neared Chanyeol, expressions softening in a way he had never seen the disciplinarian wear before. “What are you saying, Chanyeol? Of course we care about you; you’re our son.”

Chanyeol’s tone was still acidic as he bit back. “If you really cared, then wouldn’t you have thought about telling me that I’m the Phoenix’s reincarnation, instead of letting me find out on my own?!”

Another stunned silence followed Chanyeol’s words, which rang in the air long after they had left his mouth. Chanyeol’s mother’s eyes were wide with fear and horror, and his sister appeared confused by the twist of events. Park Kyungjoon however remained emotionless, though Yifan could see the troubled lines on his face, subtle but still there, and Yifan instantly realised that Chanyeol's parents knew of his fate all this while. 

Kyungjoon sighed when the silence dragged on for too long. “Chanyeol, we were about to let you know soon–” He said as he reached for Chanyeol to pull him into a hug, but he was surprised when Chanyeol rudely slapped his hand away.

“It wasn’t _soon_ enough.” Chanyeol spat again, sending one last sharp glare at his own father before he stormed off in the direction of his room, leaving his family members to crumble from the guilt that was eating them up from within, reeling from the regrets of their inaction which was meant to protect Chanyeol and keep him as _theirs_ for a little longer.

Yifan closed his eyes to block out the heart-wrenching sight, and took it as his cue to leave.

‡‡

_Rise up to your destiny._

Chanyeol cupped his hands over his ears and screamed, trying in vain to block out the words that invaded his mind continuously. Ever since the dormant blood of the Phoenix in him had been awakened, there seemed to be a voice that incessantly called out to him, coaxing him to give in to the Phoenix's beck and call. Chanyeol didn't have to ask to know that it was the ancestor of his lineage, but it didn't mean he was going to give in that easily.

No, he _refused_ to let the Phoenix take control of his body and dictate his actions. But the Phoenix in him remained insistent, tormenting him mentally day by passing day. Chanyeol thought he was going to lose his grip on his sanity soon.

_There is no use. Resisting the change will only bring you agony._

Chanyeol clenched his teeth again, trying hard to let his thoughts linger upon happier memories so that he could block out these sounds, but his efforts only served to bring him more pain when the faces of his family members came to mind. He still thought of them as a bunch of liars, that they had betrayed his trust for keeping such a massive secret to themselves.

Chanyeol had never felt more alone, even when he was surrounded by people he cared about.

He curled into himself when the pain continued to hammer against his head, and didn't even notice that someone had walked into the room, not until a warm, gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

Chanyeol let out a low snarl at the touch, thinking it was his parents who were trying to make peace with him, but when he turned around and caught sight of Lu Han smiling down at him, his defences immediately crumbled. It took no more than two seconds before Chanyeol was reduced into a sobbing mess in Lu Han's arms.

Aside from Kris, Lu Han was the only person Chanyeol could trust in now, and he hung on desperately to that tiny sliver of hope, wondering if he would find salvation.


	4. act 03

He didn't know why he was being so affected by the sombre atmosphere enshrouding the Park household, but Yifan decidedly didn't like seeing everyone being this moody. Ever since Chanyeol had discovered that he was the descendent of the Phoenix, the joyful laughter which usually flooded the house was nowhere to be heard. People smiled less, talked less, gathered in the main hall less – mainly because the young master of the family mostly kept to himself these days, preferring to instead lock himself up in his room, not unlike what Yifan had done when the Parks had first taken him under their wing. 

It wasn't as though Yifan didn't understand how Chanyeol felt about the new discovery – it was precisely because Yifan had been in the exact same situation of helplessness and confusion when he'd come of age, and had faced the hatred of the village people when they had found out he was the Dragon's reincarnation, that he could empathise with the anguish Chanyeol was feeling. But after spending years with Chanyeol and his family, Yifan had long since grown to be accustomed to the close-knit relationship they shared, one which Yifan had envisioned would not fall apart no matter the sort of adversity which came their way. _This_ , Yifan wasn't expecting. He wished he could do something about it. 

"Then _do it_. You know how the legends are don't you?" As if hearing his thoughts, someone who had been lurking in his room spoke up. Yifan knew that the boy named Kai had been a constant presence around him ever since the time he'd made his identity known to Yifan, but it didn't mean Yifan would acknowledge him this easily. In fact, Yifan had even tried convincing himself that Kai was only a figment of his twisted imagination, an entity which had been conjured by the Dragon blood in him to make his life even more miserable than it already was. 

Kai was a persistent little shit, however. "Ignoring me will not do you any good. You and I both know that I'm real, and I have all the answers to the questions in your mind," he baited. Yifan rolled his eyes and continued perusing the book in his hand, opting to stay silent instead. Giving in to Kai and speaking up would only signify that he was throwing in the towel, which was far from the truth. "The Dragon and the Phoenix will only leave their corporeal bodies after the war, when one of them have lost. The Dragon blood in you will only keep stirring until it can find a way to take complete control of your conscious mind." 

As if Yifan didn't already know that. He grunted and said nothing still. 

"If you so wish to turn a deaf ear on my words, so be it–" Kai said at long last, and Yifan was about to rejoice when the boy added on to his words. "–but make no mistake about this; the mother you knew of did not give birth to you. It was someone else."

Kai's words commanded Yifan's attention completely, and he whipped his head around despite his persistent efforts at tuning the boy who called himself the Shadow Guardian out, even when he knew it was probably yet another one of Kai's tricks to get him to listen. But the topic of his mother – _God_ , the word still caused his heart to ache, for being abandoned by the only person Yifan could truly call his family when he'd saved her from her ruthless employers – was one that Yifan simply could not brush off. "What did you just say?" 

Kai's responding smirk was so infuriating, Yifan rather wished he could punch his face in. "Have I finally gotten your full attention?" 

"I am in no mood to entertain your baiting. Either you spill the beans in the next five seconds, or you can keep everything to yourself." Yifan snapped back, but he couldn't deny that his curiosity had been piqued. If Kai indeed knew about his life as much as he claimed he did, then this was one way he could prove himself. Maybe _then_ Yifan could bring himself to trust in Kai just a little more. 

"Have you ever paused to wonder why everyone would comment that you look _nothing_ like your mother – and for those who knew of your supposed late father, said that you do not resemble both your parents at all?" Kai prompted, and a sharp chill instantly ran down the length of Yifan's spine. 

Yifan had never told anyone this, not even his mother, but such comments from his neighbours had always bothered him. Yifan himself had compared his face with his mother's in the small shard of mirror she'd brought back from her employer's home many times, and had never failed to end up disappointed whenever he couldn't find a common point between both their features. It didn't help that Yifan was naturally observant, picking out which feature on his friends' faces belonged to which parent of theirs with relative ease. 

And then there was Yifan.

Kai's smirk only grew wider at Yifan's silence. "You have, haven't you?"

It was with great reluctance that Yifan finally sighed, knowing that he could no longer suppress the burning curiosity within him. His inquisitiveness could be such a terrible weakness sometimes. "Fine, I'm all ears."

‡‡

"Master Chanyeol, you can't keep doing this to yourself." A soothing voice spoke up from the entrance of his room, causing Chanyeol to look up despite his conscious efforts at stopping himself from doing so. It was almost like a reflex by now, Chanyeol reacting to voices which belonged to either Kris and Lu Han and no one else, and he was sure that Kris and Lu Han have gotten sick of reprimanding him for being curled up in foetal position all the time, head buried between his knees as Chanyeol tried to push away the Phoenix's constant calls for him to give in to his destiny. 

Chanyeol was so exhausted of fighting back, but he _had_ to keep trying. He knew that if he ever lost his grip on his sanity, then the Phoenix blood within him will take full control of his body and break free, the way it had always wanted to since the day it had awakened. If that ever happened, then Chanyeol will surely lose everyone he held dear to him. He wasn't prepared for that to happen. Not now, not ever. He didn't want to lose even his parents whom had lied to him all his life about his bloodline. 

"If my parents told you to come talk to me about getting out of my room–" Chanyeol croaked, voice hoarse from disuse. No matter how much he tried to speak, Chanyeol still wasn't used to the deep timbre of his voice. It sounded foreign even to his own ears, and it reminded Chanyeol that he was losing – had already lost – a part of himself. "–then save your breath and leave." 

Lu Han sighed, but it was evident that he wasn't deterred by the acidic tone Chanyeol was using on him. Chanyeol could hear the way his feet padded across the room, getting closer and closer to where Chanyeol sat curled up in his bed. "I am doing this under no one's orders but my heart's, Master Chanyeol. It is through my genuine concern that I'm saying this." He said, Chanyeol's sheets ruffling as Lu Han took a seat on his bed. Chanyeol _would_ have gotten mad, if the Phoenix hadn't stirred violently in his mind in response to Lu Han's presence. It seemed as though the Phoenix was responding to the Protector of its shrine, something which Chanyeol had come to recognise when Lu Han's visits grew frequent. But he couldn't find it in himself to begrudge Lu Han's visits; not when the Protector knew exactly how to comfort Chanyeol. 

"I am not going to forgive my parents for this," Chanyeol sniffed petulantly. Even though his mother had tried her best to convince him that they _were_ planning to break the news to him before he had discovered about the massive secret by himself, Chanyeol refused to buy it. They couldn't even give him an answer to his question of _do you mean it?_. 

"Then are you going to stay mad at them for the rest of your life?" Lu Han asked again, and Chanyeol's lower lip quivered. Lu Han knew this was a question _he_ couldn't answer to. Why must life be this cruel to him, to have sentenced him to a destiny of living with the Phoenix's blood in him? It was much harsher for the Phoenix to have awakened when Chanyeol was still so young and confused about the world. How was he supposed to bear the responsibility of protecting EXO when he wasn't even ready to deal with his own life independently?

"Master Chanyeol–" Lu Han laid a hand on his shoulder, and Chanyeol couldn't find it in him to shrug him off. "–as pushy as the Phoenix might be, he will not force you to go out into the heat of the battle when you're unprepared. That's cruelty of the highest order. But the Phoenix is right, in a way; you will have to face up against the Dragon eventually, and you cannot possibly run away from your destiny." 

Chanyeol chuckled sadly despite his inner turmoils at Lu Han's words. He'd grown accustomed to Lu Han reading his mind all the time, and the tendrils of Lu Han's consciousness creeping into his had become more of a reassurance that he wasn't losing his mind just yet. "Stop calling me Master, Lu Han. I am younger than you are, and you are much wiser than I will ever be." 

Reading his mind yet again, Lu Han smiled softly in encouragement. "Then will you accept my help, to prepare you for the inevitable, Chanyeol?"

There was a short pause, before Chanyeol shook his head. "I am not ready for this. Not yet."

Much to his surprise, Lu Han merely inclined his head in acquiescence instead of talking Chanyeol into seeing things his way. "As you wish. I will be there when you need me. But promise me you will make the effort to reconcile with your family. On this arduous path, there is nothing more important than that." 

Chanyeol couldn't feel more thankful that Lu Han wasn't going to force him into things, and that was a small promise he could afford to make at this point of time. Perhaps.

‡‡

Even though he had been seeing Chanyeol on a daily basis in the confines of the latter's room, Yifan couldn't stop his eyes from nearly popping out of its sockets when he saw the younger boy _out_ of it for the first time since Chanyeol had returned from the Phoenix's shrine with the new knowledge that he was the descendant of a prestigious bloodline, destined to protect the denizens of EXO. Yifan was almost convinced that Chanyeol had sworn to a life of being confined to his room, swallowed up by a temper tantrum against his parents which Chanyeol had been so eager to stick to. 

Yifan should know, considering the fact that Park Kyungjoon had tasked it upon Yifan to talk Chanyeol into forgiving his parents for their selfish desires to keep Chanyeol to themselves. Yifan may be young, but he could empathise with Chanyeol's parents for wanting to keep Chanyeol safe from harm. From Yifan's uglier side. Yifan was the same. He doesn't ever want to see Chanyeol being hurt, much less _because_ of Yifan and his accursed bloodline. He wouldn't be able to live it down, and it was going to make him lose the only family he had ever come to know and have. 

He cared too much about Chanyeol, and it was something Kai had a lot to say about, even when Yifan was hell bent on not responding to his snide remarks. He tried not to think about how Park Kyungjoon and Park Haejung would never forgive him if they ever found out that _Yifan_ was the Dragon, and thought of him as the person who might end up killing their son. 

Yifan could never, but who would believe in him when the truth was out? 

"You're out–" Yifan blurted unintelligently, a little too stunned by the sight to come up with anything else. It had been at least a month and a half since the incident, after all, and Yifan's and Lu Han's combined efforts at coaxing Chanyeol out of his hideout didn't seem to be working out all too well. Even Lu Han's latest visit had proved to be fruitless – or so Yifan had thought. There must be some kind of miracle working up there, but Yifan definitely wasn't complaining. All that cooping up in his room which Chanyeol had been doing couldn't be good for both his mental and physical health. 

Chanyeol flashed a wry smile at Yifan, his tired eyes turning into half-crescents from behind his unkempt hair which was hanging over his face. "Have I made you worry?" He asked innocently, then answered his own question moments later. "I have, haven't I? I'm sorry, hyung. I'm sorry–"

Yifan could hear the tremble in Chanyeol's voice, and that was all it took for his self-control to go to hell. He was already crossing the hall in two long strides, wrapping his arms around Chanyeol's slightly smaller frame and crushing him in his embrace. He didn't care that someone could walk in upon them, and began pressing feather-light kisses on the crown of Chanyeol's head in an attempt to soothe the younger boy's inner turmoil. After all, Yifan was sure it wasn't easy for Chanyeol to take his first steps at accepting his fate, and he knew Chanyeol would need someone else apart from Lu Han to be there to support him. 

Yifan _wanted_ desperately to step into that role for Chanyeol, for as long as he had before the Dragon subdued Yifan's free will. And nothing will ever beat the joy which made his heart leap when Chanyeol's arms came up to wrap around Yifan's waist, clinging to Yifan as though his sanity depended on it. 

This was okay. This was okay.

‡‡

"Some masochist you are," Kai commented the moment Yifan returned to his room after spending the afternoon with Chanyeol, his feet dangling off the edge of the table where he was seated upon. Even if Yifan had heard of the comment one too many times by now, it still didn't stop him from throwing a dirty look at Kai. 

"What do you want with me, now?" He snapped, stripping off his shirt and heading directly for the bath which the Park household's servants had drawn for him. Yifan wasn't one to indulge in such luxuries of life, one where he was being served by others when his social standing was no different from them, but the Parks had been very insistent on showering him with the same treatment they received on a daily basis. Yifan had long since given up on protesting against their kindness, but he never does forget to send a silent prayer in thanks to the Protectors above all the time. At least there was some good in his life. 

Mercifully, Kai at least respects Yifan's right to have some privacy for himself, and did not follow after him as he usually does when he wanted to annoy Yifan with his incessant persuasion to accept his destiny. Kai was, after all, the Shadow Guardian who was tasked to guide the descendants of the Dragon throughout their lives, and it seemed to Yifan that the boy was very serious about his responsibility. Yifan just wasn't convinced about the boy's ultimate goal, considering the deep-seated fear that the Dragon's name had incited in the hearts of every citizen on EXO. 

"Nothing." Kai shrugged, the movements of his shadow clearly reflected on the wall in the flickering light of the candle. "I'm pretty sure you were thinking about setting off in search of your birth mother. By deepening your relationship with the Phoenix boy, is it not going to make it harder for you to leave?" 

Yifan's muscles froze in place just as he was about to dip his body into the water. Ever since Kai had told him of his birth mother and the village he was meant to have lived in had she not given him away, Yifan had been toying with the idea of meeting her at least once in this lifetime of his. He was sceptical of Kai's words, but still Yifan wanted to ascertain the truth surrounding the circumstances of his birth, and why his mother gave him away after bearing him in her womb for so long. He _ached_ to establish that no mother would willingly be cruel to their own children, the way Park Haejung had strived so hard to protect Chanyeol. 

_He is my child_ , Park Haejung had told Yifan once when Yifan had accidentally bumped into her pressing a hand against the door of Chanyeol's room, the gaze in her eyes telling him that she was torn between wanting to walk into Chanyeol's room and seek for his forgiveness, and to leave Chanyeol on his own. _Even if he is meant to be protecting EXO against the Dragon's blind rage, I am his mother. I have the obligation to protect him until destiny calls, no matter how lowly he may think of me for not telling him._

Haejung's words had struck Yifan deep within, and he had never been consumed by a greater desire to find out if his own mother had known about his accursed fate, if she truly detested Yifan for being born into a life he didn't have any control over. 

In the end, Yifan snarled at Kai instead of giving him a proper answer. What was the point, when Kai was freely rummaging through his mind for things to use against Yifan? "Get out of my head." 

Kai's answering laugh was mischievous, telling Yifan that he wasn't planning on doing that any time soon. "Why? It's such a fun place to be in." He told Yifan, and Yifan tried not to groan aloud. Even if Kai had free access to his inner state of mind, Yifan wasn't going to admit in the open that Kai was frustrating him a whole lot. In the next moment, Kai had appeared on top of the divider which cut off the bathing area from the rest of Yifan's room, and Yifan subconsciously immersed his body deeper into the water. "I thought you'd have understood by now that the Dragon and the Shadow Guardian are inseparable entities. I come into existence the moment you're born." 

Despite himself, Yifan grumbled. "Someone needs to start changing that fact." 

Kai seemed unrepentant and unruffled by Yifan's bitter comment though. "You're the master of your own destiny, if you so wish. Running away from the face of truth isn't going to solve anything, if that's what you're thinking." 

For someone who seemed so young, Kai spoke too many words of wisdom. Yifan decidedly didn't like it. "Leave me alone for a night, will you?" He snapped yet again. 

This time, Kai shrugged and finally disappeared in a puff of smoke, much to Yifan's gratefulness. Long after Kai had left his room, though, Yifan found himself staring at his reflection in the tub of rapidly cooling water. It was growing clear to him that his life was about to evolve into a greater nightmare than the time he'd discovered that he was the Dragon, considering the things which have transpired in the past week and the revelations thrown at him by Kai. 

There was a dark thought which remained pervasive in his mind, wondering if he'd wake up in an entirely different dimension where his life was the exact opposite of the one he was currently living in, if he drowned himself in the tub. 

A harsh, empty laugh escaped his throat, before Yifan climbed out of the bath and towelled himself dry. It was a thought to be kept for another time.

‡‡

Everything felt so foreign to him, even if Chanyeol knew it shouldn't. He had been spending a great deal of time avoiding any sort of contact or conversation with his parents over the last two months since his coming of age, however, and it caused him to feel rather awkward when he was faced with the sight of his parents who have been a constant in his life ever since he was born. 

To be honest with himself, Chanyeol wouldn't be in this position if he hadn't allowed Kris to talk him into it. As childish as it may sound, Chanyeol was still rather upset with his parents for hiding such an important piece of information from him. It became obvious when he'd returned home from the Phoenix's Shrine, two days after his birthday, that his parents had known of the sacred blood flowing in Chanyeol's veins all along. His father, in particular, had been so unnervingly calm when Chanyeol had confronted him, and Chanyeol felt betrayed that he had to learn of the truth from someone who had been as good as a stranger in his life. 

Ironically, the roles have been completely reversed now. Lu Han had become a close confidant of his, while his parents have turned estranged. 

"Go on," Kris's voice was ever so calming and soothing in Chanyeol's ears, and Chanyeol stumbled a little when Kris gave him a little push, his hand warm on the small of his back. "Talk to them. You promised." 

_Can I take that back?_ , Chanyeol wanted to say, but he bit on his lower lip and sucked in a deep breath to stop himself. His mother had always taught him to keep his promises to others, especially to those he held dear to him. And Kris was definitely someone Chanyeol cherished a lot over the years they'd spent being together. 

"Fine," Chanyeol muttered under his breath, sure that Kris was the only person who could hear him. It took him a little longer before he managed to string his words together, and the first thing he said was, "I still won't forgive you this easily for not having told me. About what I am. What I'm expected to do." 

Tension filled the room in a flash; Chanyeol was sure most of it came from the boy behind him when Kris hissed sharply. "Chanyeol–"

"Kris, it's fine." Chanyeol's father cut in calmly, much to Chanyeol's surprise. He had expected for his father to show some semblance of anger over his constant rebellion as of late, but all Chanyeol could see was a look of resignation. It admittedly did not suit his father at all. "Chanyeol, I know it has been difficult on you, but please, your mother and I only ask of you to trust in us when we tell you that we had meant to let you know."

Beside his father, his mother nodded sadly. It seemed as though she was doing everything in her ability to not break down in front of Chanyeol – _again_. His bottom lip quivered at the thought. "Master Lu had informed us of your being the Phoenix's reincarnation. Never a day would pass without your father and I debating over the right time to tell you. We'd thought it would be safe to wait until after your thirteenth birthday, but we didn't expect that the Phoenix would awaken on the same night." 

"You were so young – _still are_ so young. We can't possibly let you live with the burden of the knowledge that you have to be the protector of our planet." His father added, and Chanyeol could hear the slight tremble in his voice, the first and only sign of his internal struggles. He was trying to be strong for the sake of the family; Chanyeol felt a belated pang of guilt at the realisation. He had allowed himself to be blinded by his anger, and hurt everyone around him in the process. "We're your parents, and even if you have such a great responsibility sitting on your shoulders, we will always be there to share the weight with you, no matter how small our contribution might be." 

His father's words struck him hard, and there was nothing else Chanyeol could do apart from rushing forward to wrap his arms around his father's waist, burying his tear-stricken face in his father's clothes and sobbing out his apologies over and over again. How could he ever have doubted that his parents cared any less for him, just because they were going to end up losing him to the rest of the planet when the Dragon finally made its existence known? 

But Chanyeol was lucky to have parents who would give up the world for his sake, and never would he dare think that they'd desert him by choice ever again. Chanyeol was also struck with the realisation that there was still time for him to live a fairly normal life, until he had to serve his duty of protecting EXO till his death, and it was what made him strengthen his embrace, crying his heart out as Chanyeol the young master of the Park household, and not as Chanyeol the Phoenix. 

There would come a time when he was needed by the people of EXO, but now was not it. It was one of the simple treasures in life which Chanyeol would learn to cherish. 

Behind them, Kris turned away with a melancholic smile on his face, and walked out of the room to allow the Park family to have a private moment to themselves. He was not one of the lucky ones to possess parents like Chanyeol's, and the knowledge inadvertently amplified the loneliness within. 

Perhaps, someday.


	5. act 04

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: underage sex (but completely consensual). obviously nc-17 hi.

_Do you really intend to interfere? You know we shouldn't._

_Of course. You know they would always need a push, or nothing will happen at all._

_A little cruel, are we not?_

_Do I hear you getting attached?_

_...no, fine. Just don't go overboard._

_Have I ever?_

_Do you really want me to answer that?_

‡‡

Two years have gone by with surprising calmness since Chanyeol had discovered that he was the Phoenix's descendant, and the Park family had lived in relative peace, not once having to worry overtly about Chanyeol being yanked out of his home against his will. Yifan should know how glad they were with the fact that the much-dreaded Dragon had not made its appearance and prematurely extracted Chanyeol from a quiet life he deserved. Yifan was the same, of course.

Despite the fact that the Dragon's blood would occasionally stir within him, it seemed to have gotten the message that Yifan didn't welcome its presence, and had laid low for the most part. Even when it became excited, Yifan could still exert control over it and suppress the Dragon to the back of his conscious mind. It was something Yifan was infinitely grateful for, because the more time he spent being with Chanyeol, the more attached he grew to the boy, and the less he wanted to leave. Having to fight against Chanyeol in a battle to death seemed like an impossible task for him to accomplish, and he decided that if things boiled down to a showdown, then Yifan would docilely bow out and allow Chanyeol to end his life right then and there. 

At the very least, Yifan wouldn't have to deal with the guilt of ever hurting Chanyeol in his state of insanity. 

Then again, good things never last forever. His _mother_ (Yifan's heart still never failed to clench painfully at the thought) had told Yifan that repeatedly before, but he could not grasp the full impact of it until now, when he had finally grown to a ripe age of seventeen. 

This day was one that was as normal as any other, with Yifan trailing several steps behind a very excited Chanyeol as the younger boy jogged down the street, where a festival was currently in full swing. Chanyeol had always been very fond of festivals, because he loved the vibrancy and the atmosphere which came with them. Yifan thought that Chanyeol was like the perfect embodiment of these festivals which he loved so much, though, with his bright smiles and infectious enthusiasm – at least to Yifan, anyway. 

There may be times when Chanyeol would sit petrified in the darkness of his room, fingers digging painfully into his scalp as he screamed and screamed at the voice in his head to _please, go away, leave me alone_ , but Yifan would always be there for him in a flash, cradling the trembling boy in his arms and whispering soft encouragements that _everything will be okay_ repeatedly until he calmed down enough to fall asleep. This was by no means a rare occurrence ever since the Phoenix blood within Chanyeol had awakened, but Yifan was pleased to note that Chanyeol was gaining better control over the Phoenix in the two years which have passed them by. They both have Lu Han to thank for that. 

Looking at Chanyeol who was now ogling at everything around him with wide eyes, fascinated by even the smallest of things, one wouldn't expect him to be hiding such a dark secret, or shouldering the heavy responsibility of protecting the people of EXO when the destined time comes. 

Yifan, on the other hand, was eager to delay it for as long as he could, even as the blood of the Dragon raged within him whenever he got too close to Chanyeol, as if sensing the presence of its mortal enemy and stirring in response to it. If the Phoenix in Chanyeol had ever responded in the same manner as the Dragon, Yifan wouldn't know either, because Chanyeol had such good control over his emotions by now. The only indication that he was being bothered incessantly by the Phoenix was the way he would squeeze his eyes shut, fists balled by his side and knuckles white as he took in several deep breaths, as if fighting a great battle internally. And then Yifan would know he was triumphant in driving the Phoenix away when Chanyeol reopened his brilliant eyes and flashed the brightest smile ever, one which could possibly rival the radiance of the summer sun. 

Chanyeol exclaimed loudly just then, pulling Yifan out of his thoughts, and Yifan returned to reality just in time to see Chanyeol dashing down the street, probably having found something interesting enough to soak up his attention completely. Yifan merely laughed at the sight, shaking his head quietly to himself and began taking long strides to chase after Chanyeol, though some _one_ passing him by from his peripheral vision had him coming to a halting stop, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. 

There was no way this could be happening. 

Yifan apologised for standing in the way when someone bumped into his back and uttered a string of colourful curses, before taking off in the opposite direction, away from Chanyeol who had been swallowed up by the crowd. Chanyeol was a bright boy; he'd wait for Yifan by the side once he realised that Yifan was gone. Even if Yifan didn't show up, he'd eventually find his way home – or to the Phoenix's Shrine where Lu Han was spending the evening cooped up indoors, considering his sacred status as the Protector of the Shrine. Chanyeol would understand. 

It wasn't an easy feat, having to weave his way through the crowd in search of the person who had caught his interest, especially when _she_ was a slight woman to begin with. He rummaged through the recesses of his mind, trying hard to remember the outfit _she_ had worn while keeping his eyes peeled, and his heart thumped hard against his ribs when he finally located the person he'd been looking for. 

Yifan reached out, not caring if the woman would scream in fright and alert everyone else around him, and grabbed her on the shoulder. What he needed was answers, and he wasn't going to let the night end without them.

‡‡

She was terrified. Petrified, even. Yifan could see them in the way her eyes glinted beneath the pale moonlight as they peered up at him, her breaths coming out in short puffs. He wanted to laugh, but didn't. He didn't think that the wounded part of his heart would ever heal from her betrayal, and he was sure to break if he did.

"Hello, _Mother_." Yifan greeted, injecting as much bitterness as he possibly could into his words. It was ironic, how they had to meet again like this, four years after her initial abandonment upon learning of his sullied bloodline as the Dragon's descendant, but he supposed it was only natural. "What are you doing here, so far from our village?"

"You are not my son!" She spat venomously, and looked every bit like she was prepared to bolt from the alleyway Yifan had dragged her into, but the fear which grappled with her was so intense that the only thing she could do was press her back right up against the wall as she tried to keep her knees together, putting as much distance as she could between herself and Yifan. _You're a monster_ , he could almost hear her shouting at him. 

"Funny you should say that." Yifan said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and staring back at her indifferently, even though his heart was hurting with every passing minute of this confrontation. He could only hope that it wouldn't show up on his expressions. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that he was upset because she had disowned him without even thinking about it. "Memories don't lie, Mother. I'm sure you agree with me." 

A strangled sound filled the silence which had trailed after Yifan's words, and he was sure she knew exactly what he was trying to say. As adamant as she was at denying that they had ever been mother and son once upon a time, there was no way she could wipe the memories of their simple life together away from her mind. The tears collecting at the corner of her eyes was more than enough proof of that. 

"What do you want with me?" She asked again, her voice trembling. "I will keep your secret safe with me. Just– don't hurt me. _Please_." 

For a brief moment, Yifan was overcome with an irrational sense of anger at the accusation. It didn't even matter if she thought that he was a monster, but he could never even _dream_ of hurting the woman who had diligently brought him up despite living in poverty. It was a huge sacrifice, Yifan knew, because he had seen the faces of homeless children, abandoned by their parents who could not afford to provide for them, hungry and dirty as they thronged the streets for scraps of food to go by. In a sense, Yifan had been lucky enough to not have ended up like them, even if he _was_ technically an orphan now. 

"What are you doing here?" Yifan reiterated once he was sure that the Dragon within him was well under control, knowing that it would threaten to take over Yifan's consciousness if he relinquished his self-control to blind rage.

The question wasn't his top priority, but Yifan couldn't stop himself from asking until he received answers in return. It didn't make sense that his mother should travel this far from their village, where there was no one she knew of here. It was only by that virtue that Yifan could have lived in this village at all, without the fear of being recognised. What Yifan was worried about, though, was if his mother had been chased out of their village by the very people who had wanted to stone Yifan to death when it was revealed that he was the Dragon. He wondered if she had been suffering all these years, migrating from one place from another in search of a sustainable source of income. She had aged a lot since the last time Yifan had seen her, crow feet accentuating the corners of her eyes, wrinkles on her forehead more pronounced, and she simply looked _exhausted_. Yifan was half-tempted to reach for her hands and hold them in his, wanting to have a feel for himself the callosity on her palms, earned through years upon years of doing laundry for others, but he didn't act upon his desires. He didn't think the woman in front of him would have appreciated it, when she was already on the verge of hyperventilating by being in his mere presence.

Still. 

"Why should it matter to you?" She shot back scathingly, and it was blindingly obvious, how she refused to revert to the days when she had very affectionately called him _my dear Fan_. It was more than enough for Yifan to demand something else from her.

"Then at least tell me this – tell me the _truth_ before you disappear from my life once and for all – were you really the one who gave birth to me?" 

His mother's breath hitched audibly at his question, eyes dilating significantly, as if confused why Yifan was asking her this at all. Then her lips parted to answer him, and Yifan could feel his entire world crashing down around him all over again, just as the fireworks display lit up the entire sky.

‡‡

Chanyeol sat on the sidewalk with his chin rested on his knees, absently doodling into the sand with a stick he'd found lying on the ground as he waited. The festival crowd was still thick, but no one paid him any mind as they went on their business, laughing and chatting merrily with their friends and family members as they soaked up the atmosphere.

And then there was Chanyeol, hiding by the side, away from the endless stream of people thronging through the streets. Alone. 

In retrospect, he shouldn't have ran off on his own, but he had been so sure that Kris was right on his heels when he'd bolted in the direction of the square where the fireworks display was supposed to be fired from. Kris always was.

Chanyeol was by no means a timid person, but he'd been deathly afraid when he had turned around and Kris was nowhere in sight. He had been having morbid dreams as of late, of being left behind by the people he cared and loved the most, but none of them as hard-hitting when Kris had disappeared from his dream-life. It had never failed in jolting Chanyeol awake from his sleep, covered in cold sweat and shivering from the chill which had settled bone-deep within him. 

He sincerely hoped that his dreams hadn't turned into reality, because he couldn't possibly imagine living his life without Kris by his side, but almost an hour had come and gone, and Kris was still nowhere to be found. Chanyeol wanted to head home, afraid that Kris would have gone back upon losing him only to panic when Chanyeol wasn't around, but he figured that it would be best if he stayed put, should Kris wander through the streets in search of him. 

His endless hoping wasn't for naught, though, when a tall figure waded through the crowd and caught Chanyeol's attention. Immediately Chanyeol leapt to his feet, nearly tripping over his long legs in his haste to approach the person he had been waiting for. Puberty had struck him hard, giving him a growth spurt which Chanyeol still hadn't quite gotten used to. 

The only thing he was glad about his sudden increase in height was the fact that he could come face to face with Kris right now, instead of having Kris looking down at him and patting him on the head like a little child. Somewhere along the way, Chanyeol began wanting Kris to see him less as a younger brother and more as an equal. 

"Kris hyung!" He greeted the moment he was close enough, beaming as brightly as he could to tame Kris's irritation before it could even rise. But then something on Kris's expression made Chanyeol do a double take, and he backed off a little. Kris seemed... Distracted. Upset. Chanyeol couldn't really put a finger on it, but this wasn't the cheerful Kris who had walked out of the house with him earlier in the evening. 

A pang of guilt shot through Chanyeol at that thought; was this because of him? 

"Hyung," Chanyeol called out, feeling rather bewildered when Kris merely walked past him without even acknowledging Chanyeol. It wasn't until Chanyeol had grabbed hold of Kris's upper arm to stop him that he seemed to have realised what was going on, and he blinked in confusion back at Chanyeol. 

"Hyung, what's wrong?" Chanyeol asked, feeling the franticness creeping up to greet him. "Are you mad at me? I'm sorry for running away like that, hyung. I'm so–"

Kris shook his head and flashed him a smile, interrupting Chanyeol mid-sentence. Chanyeol wasn't sure if Kris knew just how strained his smile looked right now, or how weary he appeared to the rest of the world. He decided not to pry, knowing that the more he tried to force the truth out of Kris, the more Kris would retreat into his own shell. It hadn't been an easy feat to coax Kris into trusting him, and Chanyeol wasn't about to break that fragile bond they had between them. 

"Chanyeol, can we head home, please?" Kris said at long last, but it didn't make Chanyeol feel any less uneasy. In all the years they've been living together, Kris would always play along to Chanyeol's wishes, and would never request for anything at all.

It took Chanyeol only one heartbeat to comply.

‡‡

An odd sensation stirred in his stomach as he looked up at the man who was lying in bed with him. Once upon in time, Chanyeol wouldn't have thought anything weird about their current position, because many a night saw Kris sleeping beneath his covers with him, especially when Chanyeol would have nightmares stemming from the Phoenix's past lives. Right now, though, Chanyeol couldn't even tear his eyes away from the perfectly sculpted jaw which Kris possessed, strong and dependable like Kris's very presence, and his pulse raced a little at the thought. Kris was so warm.

Chanyeol had very shamelessly asked Kris to climb into bed with him that evening, a request which Kris had complied with without putting up a fight. He had been riddled with anxiety on the entire way home from the festival, Kris being uncharacteristically quiet next to him. It's never like this between them – Kris was usually more talkative when left alone with Chanyeol and with no one else around him, but tonight, he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, as if carried away by memories. 

It was a side of Kris which Chanyeol had not seen since the initial days when Kris had just began living with the Parks, and it left a bitter aftertaste on Chanyeol's tongue. He did not expect to see this side of Kris again, expressions which silently screamed of inner suffering, and Chanyeol wanted to be the one to make things better for him. It was the least he could do for Kris, after all the sacrifices the older man had made for him. Chanyeol didn't think he could finish repaying them even if he tried. 

"I'm sorry–" Kris suddenly croaked next to him in the dark, startling Chanyeol. He'd thought that Kris was fast asleep, considering how his breathing had been even and shallow. Apparently, he thought wrong. "–am I keeping you awake?" 

Chanyeol flushed at being caught, and he shifted a little only to remember belatedly that his head was being pillowed by Kris's arm. His pulse raced even faster at the thought. "I– no. I just can't fall asleep."

Kris immediately turned towards him, eyes filled with concern as he held Chanyeol's gaze in the dark. "Another nightmare?" He asked, the panic seeping into his voice. Chanyeol hated that this was the first semblance of emotion he could hear in Kris's words tonight, ever since they had returned from the festival. 

Chewing on his bottom lip, Chanyeol shook his head no. "I'm worried about you, hyung." He said, then paused to measure Kris's expressions. The last thing Chanyeol wanted was to push Kris further away with unwanted questions from his part, but when Kris's expressions remained neutral, it gave Chanyeol the courage to plough on. "You've been so quiet tonight. Is there... is there something bothering you?" 

"Why do you think so?" Kris countered smoothly, and Chanyeol felt _hurt_ that Kris still didn't trust him enough to offer him information unconditionally. 

"Are you mad at me?" 

"No," the other man frowned, staring at Chanyeol as though he had just sprouted another head. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"For running away without you." Chanyeol stated, and immediately wanted to bury himself six feet under. He sounded so painfully childish, even to himself. It was no wonder Kris kept looking after him like a lost child. 

If Kris thought it funny, he didn't laugh. "I _was_ worried about you when you disappeared, that much is true–" He exhaled instead; it sounded burdened. "–but I'm not mad at you. I can never be." 

Chanyeol propped himself up on his elbows and stared down at Kris, feeling rather agitated. "Then _what_ , hyung? Why can't you confide your problems in me, when I've entrusted you with the greatest secret I have?" He questioned, almost on the verge of yelling but not quite. He didn't want to alert the rest of the household with their conversation. "Don't you trust me enough? Would you rather suffer alone with all your problems than share the burden with someone who cares, _actually cares_ about you?" 

His words seemed to have touched a nerve in Kris, who sat upright in bed as well so that he could stare at Chanyeol properly. Kris's warm breaths were coming out in short puffs, fanning across Chanyeol's face, yet at the same time, Chanyeol had never felt so distant from Kris before. "It's not like that. It's never like that, Chanyeol!" He raised his voice, then sucked in a deep breath and backed off. "I can't– I can't tell you anything right now, but I promise to, in due time. Just–" Kris paused to inhale again, the pain flashing across his features. "–just. Let me sort things out, and I will." 

"Then at least allow me to dissipate your sadness, hyung." Chanyeol swallowed hard, fighting back the emotions which threatened to overtake him. If Kris thought this wasn't a good time to tell Chanyeol everything, then the least he could do was to cheer Kris up to the best of his abilities. "Don't suffer on your own. If there's something you want, I will make it happen – only because it's _you_."

"What I want, is something you might never agree to." Kris whispered back, and it was hard to miss the way his eyes had flickered towards Chanyeol's lips before he looked away again. 

Feeling emboldened by the lack of distance between them and the way Kris's broad hand was resting on his hips, Chanyeol cupped Kris's face with his hands and pulled him in to land a peck on his lips, something which he had been wanting to do for a long while now. A sharp intake of breath pierced through the still air, and Chanyeol could feel the way Kris had stiffened, his grip on Chanyeol's hips tightening almost painfully. At the very least, Kris wasn't pushing Chanyeol away, and for that, Chanyeol was glad. 

It felt like an eternity had passed them by before Chanyeol finally – _reluctantly_ – pulled away from Kris, yet he still kept his hands on Kris's jaw, and pressed their foreheads together as he drew in several breaths to calm his racing pulse. "I'm sorry," he said in the end, when Kris remained silent, his hands still holding tightly onto Chanyeol's waist. He wouldn't be surprised if he found bruises in the shape of Kris's fingertips by the time morning looms, yet the thought in itself made the pit of his stomach feel hot. "I got ahead of myself. I will just–"

"No." Kris interrupted him, voice hoarse. Chanyeol opened his eyes again only to find his breath stolen away by the intensity of Kris's gaze, burning with determination and something _else_. "I _want_ you close–" He said, then, as if having second thoughts, his expressions turned hesitant. "–but I fear that you will be afraid of me when you find out about my secrets. What I am." 

Chanyeol pressed just a little closer to him, to show Kris that he didn't care. While he wanted to know the secrets Kris was keeping from him, he also remembered Kris's plea – _please, in due time, I will_. "Then keep me close." He whispered back, feeling his lips brush against Kris's with every syllable. Kris seemed to want to close the distance, yet he was still holding himself back at the same time. "You have always been the Kris hyung I can depend on. The one who supported me through the hardest of times. The one who pulled me right up and encouraged me to stand on my two feet. How could I ever shun you, be afraid of you?" 

"You will come to regret this one day." Kris was insistent, but was Chanyeol even more so. 

"Then don't make me regret. Try your hardest so that I will never regret giving my all to you." Chanyeol maintained, and with these very words, he'd managed to break through the last of Kris's defences, feeling Kris's hot lips searing against his in the very next moment. 

This was okay. This was everything Chanyeol had been dreaming of.

‡‡

It felt surreal to him, even when his lips were mapping every inch of Chanyeol's exposed torso, making his mark on pale skin with his teeth. Yifan had lived years thinking that Chanyeol would never look at him in a different light, apart from being a brotherly figure Chanyeol never had, and Yifan had been _content_. It didn't even matter if he grew extremely attached to Chanyeol. It didn't even matter if his feelings would never be reciprocated. He didn't deserve it, anyway, for the sheer reason that he'd been born with a sullied bloodline, a destiny which everyone feared.

Yet, when Chanyeol had pressed his soft lips against Yifan's on his own accord, he began to hesitate. He began to grow greedy.

Heaven was so close to his reach, and Yifan wasn't selfless enough to walk away from everything that Chanyeol was offering to him. No, he couldn't even if he tried, and each slide of lips against lips only fanned the flames of desire within him. Yifan was as good as gone, when Chanyeol's kissing him like this, willing and giving and giving and _giving_. 

Right now, lying splayed on the bed with his robes undone and his chest heaving, Chanyeol looked absolutely _beautiful_. His large eyes were bright even in the dark, glittering like the stars in the night skies, and his palms seared against the expanse of Yifan's back. Yifan's own robes lay forgotten on the floor somewhere, having been divested of it when Yifan had deepened the kiss, licking into Chanyeol's warm mouth and sucking on his tongue, listening intently to the soft mewls he was making. Heavy panting punctuated the silent air of the room as they exchanged open mouth kisses, and Yifan didn't want this to ever end. 

He decidedly liked the way Chanyeol arched up into him with a breathless keen when Yifan's hand travelled lower, Chanyeol's nails digging into his back when Yifan palmed him through his pants.

"Hyung–" Chanyeol gasped, his grip tightening and loosening rhythmically as Yifan licked his way down, pausing to lave at a nipple. "–please–" 

He did not manage to finish what he wanted to say, but Yifan knew what exactly Chanyeol wanted. He was the same, and with one swift motion, he slipped Chanyeol's pants and undergarments off of him, leaving Chanyeol in his naked glory. The last time he'd seen Chanyeol in nothing but skin, Chanyeol had been a child of twelve, barely having arrived at puberty, but now he'd grown up well, and Yifan's mouth went dry at the sight of his cock, curling and red and heavy against his stomach. Pearls of precum were already leaking from its tip, a sure sign of Chanyeol's arousal. 

"Please–" Chanyeol gasped again, breaking Yifan out of his trance-like state. The younger man was almost boneless from arousal, and Yifan had to help prop him up against the headboard. The bed was a little restrictive for two people of their height, but Yifan was intent on making things work, to make things memorable for Chanyeol. 

Yifan moved in to kiss Chanyeol passionately once again, before making his way down, stopping in a crouch over Chanyeol's groin. He wrapped his fingers around Chanyeol's cock, pumping it experimentally once, twice, and then Yifan took Chanyeol's entire length into his mouth, hearing Chanyeol's breath stutter above him. Chanyeol's hands were on his shoulders now, using them as leverage to hold himself together as Yifan bobbed his head in Chanyeol's lap, taking him whole then leaving him completely before hollowing his mouth around Chanyeol again. 

The stimulation must have been too intense, because Chanyeol was spilling down his throat moments later, back arched high off the bed as his orgasm claimed him, and Yifan's eyes watered when the tip of Chanyeol's cock hit the back of his throat. Yet he continued to suck him off, until Chanyeol came down from his high. He was pleasantly surprised when Chanyeol dragged him back up by the ends of his hair, the pain-pleasure shooting down Yifan's spine soon distracted away from his conscious mind when Chanyeol fused their mouths together again, eagerly licking into Yifan's mouth to have a taste of himself. 

"Oil–" He murmured against Chanyeol's lips then. "Do you have any scented oil in your room?" 

Chanyeol pointed a shaky finger in the direction of his dresser, and Yifan wasted no time in fetching the object. He was hyperaware of the way Chanyeol was eyeing him hungrily, gaze intent as he took in Yifan's topless body, drawing each definition of his muscles with his eyes. He removed his pants on his way back, climbing into bed equally as naked as Chanyeol already was, and he flushed slightly at the way Chanyeol's eyes appreciated his girth. He'd never undressed in front of others before, and he was glad Chanyeol was the first to see him like this – scars and broken dreams mapped on his skin, the promise of the unravelling of a secret hanging between them, suspended only by the existence of time. 

Chanyeol reeled him in with arms around Yifan's neck when he was close enough, desperation pronounced in his kisses, almost as though he was going to lose Yifan if he ever let go. Yifan's heart twisted painfully in his chest at the thought, but he was determined not to let it get in the way. 

"This will hurt a bit," Yifan whispered against Chanyeol's lips when they finally break apart to catch their breaths, but the light in Chanyeol's eyes was like a blazing fire, unrelenting as he nodded.

"I trust in you, hyung." He said, and without further ado, Yifan coated his fingers liberally with the scented oil he had retrieved from Chanyeol's dresser, before carefully introducing the first finger into the younger boy.

He could tell that Chanyeol was in a lot of pain from the stretch, judging by the sharp hiss and the way his nails dug into the flesh of Yifan's shoulders. He had half the mind to pull out, if only to relieve Chanyeol of the pain, but the younger boy seemed to have read his mind, and immediately held Yifan's wrist in place. 

"No, don't–" He gasped, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "–keep going. I'm okay. I'm okay." 

He didn't sound very convincing, but Yifan did not call him out on his lie. Instead, he cupped Chanyeol's face with his free hand, kissing away the tears as he pushed his finger deeper into Chanyeol. It wasn't until Chanyeol had started to grind down on Yifan's finger did he start moving, slowly stretching Chanyeol open with one, then two, then three fingers deep in him. Through it all, Yifan's lips never left Chanyeol's, nibbling at his lower lip to distract Chanyeol from the pain, and he could feel Chanyeol's cock slowly hardening between their bodies once again. 

"Hyung–" Chanyeol whispered again moments later, his mouth falling open in pleasure instead of pain this time once he had gotten used to the stretch with each thrust of Yifan's fingers in him. "–want you. In me." 

Yifan arched an eyebrow at him, barely stopping the moan from escaping his throat when Chanyeol clenched his muscles around Yifan's fingers. "Are you sure? It will hurt more than this." 

Chanyeol flashed a tender smile at Yifan, and he looked absolutely breathtaking like this, even when his hair was matted and his skin was covered in perspiration. "I trust you." He repeated his words, and it was all that was needed to break Yifan's resolve. 

Yifan's cock was extra sensitive to the touch by the time he held it in his palm to slick it up with the scented oil, but still he completed the task as quickly as he could. Chanyeol was waiting, and Yifan wanted to satisfy, wanted to make the boy happy. He spread Chanyeol's legs wider when he was ready, pressing the tip of his cock into the tight ring of Chanyeol's muscles, then held Chanyeol's gaze steadily. 

"Are you sure you want to proceed with this? There will be no turning back." He said, and his heart ached at the thought that he was keeping a massive lie from Chanyeol. 

Still, Chanyeol was unwavering as he smiled, "I won't ever regret this, only because it's you with me." 

With Chanyeol's permission, Yifan was already pushing into Chanyeol, filling him to the hilt. They moaned in unison at the penetration, and Yifan nearly saw stars with the way Chanyeol's walls were clenching tightly around him. Chanyeol buried his face in the crook of Yifan's neck, no doubt still trying to get over the explosion of pain, but Yifan rubbed at the small of his back, wanting to dispel the discomfort as much as he possibly could. 

"Move, please." Chanyeol whispered moments later, and Yifan complied accordingly, working up a gentle pace while Chanyeol continued to adjust to his girth and the intrusion. He planted butterfly kisses on the crown of Chanyeol's head, his jaw, his bare shoulders, marvelling at the sweet sounds Chanyeol was making while Yifan fucked into him. 

He was surprised when Chanyeol suddenly pushed him onto the bed by the shoulders, even more so when Chanyeol smiled down at him before sinking himself down on Yifan's cock, grinding against Yifan's hips rhythmically. The way Chanyeol's erection bounced with every movement was so erotic from this vantage point, Yifan nearly came from the imagery alone. But then he reminded that this night was dedicated to Chanyeol's happiness, and barely held himself back. 

All Yifan could think of was the way Chanyeol's thighs clenched around his as he rocked himself down on Yifan's erection, head thrown back in exquisite pleasure, beads of sweat rolling down the sides of both their faces. He spread Chanyeol further apart, an action which was rewarded by a throaty moan from the boy, and his hand reached between their bodies to fist at Chanyeol's cock, jerking him off to the rhythm Chanyeol had set.

With several more jerks, Chanyeol came with white stripes spurting into Yifan's broad hand and onto his stomach, and Yifan was pushed over the edge himself when Chanyeol's walls clenched around his much-too-sensitive erection, coating Chanyeol's insides with his cum. 

Chanyeol had a sleepy but sated smile on his face as he collapsed on top of Yifan's chest, and they kissed languidly in the dark, their fingers intertwined. 

This was wrong. This was taboo. But nothing ever felt more right to Yifan than being here with Chanyeol, sweat-slicked bodies pressed together.

‡‡

"Such a masochist." The words, filled with contempt, was thrown in his face the moment Yifan stepped into his room. He didn't even have to light a candle to know that Kai was lurking around uninvited yet again, and he sent a scowl in Kai's direction.

"What do you want, now?" He asked scathingly, not wanting to be bothered for the night. 

"To rub things in. You're fast to escape from that boy's room after making love to him, weren't you?" Kai said, and Yifan was truly tempted to launch something hard in Kai's face. Anything to wipe the smugness out of him. But then Kai's words sparked a memory within him, and Yifan froze in his position. 

He could never forget the way Chanyeol had whispered a soft but distinct _I love you_ in his sleep, and Yifan knew then that he had to leave. He couldn't possibly allow the boy to grow more attached to Yifan. It was dangerous. _Yifan_ was dangerous. 

"Stay out of this. It's none of your business." Yifan shot back as he changed into a fresh set of clothes and dragged a bag out of the bottom of his dresser. 

"Is it not?" Kai was seated on top of his dresser now, looking down at Yifan with a smirk on his face. "I told you, didn't I? That she wasn't your mother? And am I wrong to guess that you've made up your mind to search for your _real_ mother?" 

_I am not your mother. You were given to me by another woman, the night you were birthed._

Yifan didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing that he was right, and he continued to pack in silence. His limbs felt heavy with reluctance. 

"There's no point ignoring me, Wu Yifan. You and I both know that I hold all the answers – including the whereabouts of the woman who had birthed you." Kai said again, but Yifan was hearing none of it. He threw the last piece of clothing he had into the bag, then shut the door of the room behind him, quietly so as to not alert anyone else, ignoring the way Kai had a spring in his step as he followed after Yifan, almost like a child whose mischief was accomplished without him being punished.

This was for the best.


End file.
